


Miranda's Wedding

by Millgirl



Series: Miranda's Sabbatical [12]
Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Drama, F/F, Family Bonding, Humor, Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:28:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 44,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23875474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Millgirl/pseuds/Millgirl
Summary: Miranda and Andrea return from Italy and prepare for their wedding. Miranda has a clear vision for how she wants it to be, and what could possibly go wrong. As usual in this series, there is lots of loving, but also lots of fireworks before they tie the knot.
Relationships: Emily Charlton/Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs, Emily Charlton/Serena, Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Series: Miranda's Sabbatical [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1490903
Comments: 45
Kudos: 114





	1. Whoops!

**Author's Note:**

> I had expected to wait until May 1st to launch this story, which will be the last in my series, 'Miranda's Sabbatical', but as the Corvid virus continues to wreak misery on so many people, I thought we all might need cheering up, even with a little story like this. I am planning on fourteen chapters in total, and hope to finish by the anniversary of Andy's wedding day, May 15th. If this is your first trip into my Alternative Universe, then many of the characters and allusions you read may puzzle you, but you can find them all in earlier stories, which apart from the very first one, "The Touch", simply run in sequence, by the date they were published. Thanks so much for reading and as always, reviews, comments and kudos are warmly received and appreciated.

“I see you’ve caught the sun in Italy. Be careful darling. We don’t want that delicious apricot bloom to descend into ravaged prune by the time you are forty.”

“Thank you too, Nigel. Lovely to see you’re as complimentary as ever.”

“Madly jealous, darling, that’s all. While you were sight-seeing round Florence with La Priestly, I’ve been losing most of my sleep and all of my hair on pushing through the current issue, as well as prepping both your outfits for the wedding of the year.”

Andy leaned across the desk on which she was cheekily perched, and pinched Nigel’s cheek affectionately. “Well, here I am, as asked. We did have a wonderful time, but I’m back on parade now. I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done. Do you want me to try on the dress today, or just run through everything in general with you?” 

Nigel leaned back in the Editor-in-Chief’s chair, and surveyed his young protégée as he twirled a pencil. Miranda’s office, (for in reality it would always really be Miranda’s office), had turned in recent months rather into a man-den, and the previously gleaming clear surfaces were now piled up with proofs and layouts, even abandoned coffee-cups, and lunch wrappers. She would have had a fit.

It looked organised chaos, well, Andy hoped it was organised underneath all the muddles, but she remembered Nigel had now been in the hot-seat at Runway for the last eight months, and he had managed to produce the last eight regular editions, which if not as scarily brilliant as Miranda’s, were far from disappointing.  
But the next four months’ magazines would be created without any of her direct creative influence. The stakes were higher than ever for him, if he was to then move on to a permanent Editor in Chief post in the new men’s Runway they were talking about within the company. 

Andy knew he was busy. Editors and assistants kept coming in and out in an alarmingly casual but frenetic way, so she didn’t want to waste his time. 

“Yes, I want you to see it and try it on. So let’s go,” he said. He rose to his feet and escorted her off to look at the beautiful frothy Valentino dress he had chosen for her, now hanging discreetly at the back of the Closet.

As they walked, he asked, “When did you come home? I need to get hold of Miranda and the twins as well of course. But I had better come to the town-house with a team of fitters to sort them out. I know she won’t want to come back in here until the First of September.”

“We flew in late last night, and Miranda has flown again over to Ohio to collect the twins from my Mum and Dad. They’ll all be back later this evening. I’m still pretty jet-lagged, but wanted to sort as much stuff out as possible before they return.”

They strolled down the long corridors of the Runway offices together. Andy looked sideways at him. Nigel seemed sleek and happy, despite all the strain of his current job. She ventured to ask, “How is it going with Douglas? Are you two still seeing each other?”

“Yes, in fact, after California, we hooked up properly. He now lives with me in my apartment. “

“Nigel! I’m so happy for you both! You must both come round for dinner one evening and tell us all about it.”

“Hmm, yes, that will be nice. He’s very young of course. . .“

“But he’s the same age as me!”

“Exactly. But while Miranda might be a shameless cradle-snatcher, I never thought I’d fall for someone who barely needs to shave. But we get along very well. He’s a joy in fact. I love knowing he’ll be there in the evening when I finally get in.”

“He’s lucky to have you. Anyone would be. I hope it works out for you both. You really deserve to be happily settled with someone who appreciates you, and so does Douglas.” 

Andy was always generous with her compliments, but she smiled to see Nigel’s face blush with embarrassed pleasure. The guy needed affirming, and had never received enough of it, she knew well enough, from darling Miranda. He hastily changed the subject though.

“Well you look good, not piled on too many pounds with all that pasta, I’m happy to see.”

“It helped that Miranda made us walk miles every day. We were hardly ever still, but she did tuck into to a few ice-creams along the way. Don’t you dare say anything to her if her gown is a little tight when you bring it over.”

“I know better than that, darling. But I have noticed Miranda is metamorphosing before us all into a happy woman who can even take a little teasing. That is shock enough for an old retainer like me. So, maybe, by the time you’ve finished with her, she’ll be one of those candidates for America’s fattest people shows.“

He and Andy exchanged glances, then both shook their heads. “No, that will never happen!” they both laughed simultaneously. 

“While you’re here, no doubt you’ll want to see Emily. Did you know she and Serena have been up to Provincetown to find out about getting married there? This germ you and Miranda have caught seems contagious. Look, go in and have a word now. I’ll be in the Closet talking to the wardrobe boys and girls.” And Nigel sashayed away.

Andy popped her head round the door of the main Art Room. Emily was sitting at a large table in the centre of the space. Her head was down and she was deep in the process of choosing photographs. Andy could see the enormous diamond ring on her left hand, and she looked good, stylish as ever, but fit and healthy, no longer the bag of bones she’d been in the autumn. Andy coughed and she looked up.

“Sachs! Hi, have you come slumming it round the salt-mines for a change? How was Rome, Florence, Milan? Did you manage to keep Miranda happy against all rational expectations?”

Andy invaded Emily’s space and gave her a bear-hug, purposely to annoy her. “Very happy, so she informed me. I’m here today to try on my wedding dress. But what about you and Serena? I see by the size of that rock that we are now officially affianced, and why wasn’t I invited to the party?”

“There were only two of us there,” replied Emily, with the good manners to blush as she recalled the exact circumstances of Serena giving her the ring. “Then we went to Brazil to confront her family and give them the good news.”

“How did that go down? No broken bones at least?”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Just to say, between my Dad and her father, there isn’t a sheet of paper’s difference in the natural homophobic tendencies of the unreconstructed male. But Seri was magnificent. She basically said, “Take it or leave it. We are getting married. You can all come if you like, or not. I don’t really care.” But of course she does, underneath. And the parents at least will be there, and maybe some more of the family. She has countless siblings.”

“So when will it be, and have you decided to go up to Massachusetts?”

“Yes, and we’ve booked the same venue as you. It has kind of significance, you’ll remember?” 

“I sure do. And the date?”

“The week after yours, May 15th.”

Andy’s head turned. “No, that’s our date. Miranda and I are getting married on May 15th. I talked to them myself. We’ve booked out the whole Inn. “

Emily went white. “But I talked to them too. The woman assured me it would be fine. She was almost expecting my call. We’ve booked out the whole inn as well.” 

“We are talking about the Windhover? Where we all stayed last August?”

“Yes.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“Fucking hell!”

“Do you think they thought we were talking about the same wedding?”

“All of our invitations have gone out now. Remind me the time of your ceremony?”

“Twelve Noon. Ours have gone out too. I sent them before we left for Rome. You’ll have had yours if you looked.”

Emily had indeed received her invitation which now sat proudly next to Serena’s on their dresser. An icy trickle of fear ran down her spine as she visualised the elegant gold print which yes, had clearly stated May 15th. How could she not have seen it?

Her default position a few months before would have been to scream at Andy and blame her entirely for the mistake, but she knew Miranda’s decision on the date had come way before her and Serena’s. And thinking about Miranda’s inevitable reaction made her stomach heave. No way would her boss tolerate this. Emily could only just manage to stop herself rushing off to the bathroom to throw up. 

“Bloody Hell.”

“What shall we do? What time is your wedding?”

“Two pm. We need to call the Inn, like now. It’s really their fault entirely, but it doesn’t alter the crisis.”

Nigel had returned and put his head round the door. “Buck up Six. We can’t keep everyone waiting.”

Andy had picked up Emily’s sense of panic, and she as well began to tremble, thinking about Miranda’s reaction. Back in the walls of Runway she was in danger of slipping back into terrified assistant mode, rather than the actual bride of the upcoming nuptials. 

“Nigel, didn’t you notice on your invitations? Emily’s and our wedding have been double-booked at the same place on the same day! “

He looked at them both over his glasses, and then had the nerve to actually burst into laughter. 

“Wonderful! Well, in that case, you’ll just have to make it a double wedding! Half of your guests will be coming along to both anyway. It will save Douglas and me at least making the trip twice. But no, I didn’t notice, sorry. You’re both in a bit of a pickle jar. What fun!”

“Don’t joke. Miranda will be beyond furious.”

“Yes she will, but wait, perhaps no she won’t. Girls, Miranda is deeply, overwhelmingly in love. She’ll only have eyes for Andy. But . . . I maybe wouldn’t tell her about your little problem until you’ve sorted it out. Now I want you, Andy, now! Chop, chop!”

“Chop, chop is right,” muttered Emily. “At least they don’t allow use of the guillotine in America. Go on Sachs, and look at your dress. I’ve seen it and it is divine, but of course will be quite wasted on you! I’m going to call the Windhover Inn now and give them hell.”

Andy allowed herself to be taken into the changing rooms next to the Closet, and did actually take in a gasp of pure pleasure when she looked at the silk and lace Valentino creation which one of Nigel’s minions had fetched for her. It was exquisitely beautiful, shining white, with adorable pearl beading and an extremely clever cut so it swung back and forth against its own bias.

“Put it on and then come out to show us,” Nigel instructed, as he shoved her into a cubicle and drew the curtain.

Andy’s fingers trembled as she pulled off her socks, jeans, tee shirt and fleece top. She was elated by the sight of the dress, which suddenly made her wedding seem more of a reality and less some infantile fantasy that Miranda Priestly of Manhattan, would actually want to marry her, Andy Sachs of Ohio. But she was so devastated by the sudden shock of the clash of dates at the venue, she could barely focus, and she was immobilised for a moment or two. 

As she stood in her underwear, a hand came round the curtain, followed by the grinning face of the assistant. She took the offered silk slip to wear under the dress. 

“Uh, can you help me here please?” Andy asked her, and gratefully accepted the assistant’s assistance. The dress fell in rustling silk and lace to the ground as she was helped into it, and the concealed side zip fastening slid quietly and smoothly up to hold it against her body. She was then also passed a pair of four inch heels to put on her feet, and she felt herself rise up to the occasion. She looked at herself in the dressing-room mirror and then cautiously went back outside and presented herself to Nigel. 

He just stood in silence for several seconds. Then he said, “Turn Around.”

Andy turned a circle and came back. She hoped it pleased him. At least it fitted like a glove. Those helpings of fettucine and spaghetti carbonara had not jeopardised things too badly, thank God.

“Is it OK?” she asked nervously.

“Stand up straight. You have a terrible tendency to slouch.”

“Sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry darling. I have to tell you, you look absolutely, stunningly beautiful. You will make your mother cry. You will make your father cry. Damn it, you will make Miranda cry. You make me cry!”

“Oh Nigel shut up!”

“Now about your head. What about a veil?”

“No veil.” Andy was vehement. “Maybe a little flower arrangement. But I want to look everyone in the eye. I am not getting married in any sort of disguise.”

“Very well. I understand. Well you will look like a princess, whatever. I might find you a little diamond tiara. Miranda will be happy, I am sure, now I’ve seen it on you. And Valentino’s have gifted you the dress by the way. They know all about the publicity they’ll receive when the tabloids of the world feature the wedding.”

Andy looked horrified. “Oh Nigel, I hope not! No way! That’s the last thing Miranda will want. One reason we've chosen Provincetown is to keep the whole thing low-key. We certainly don’t want the press there, even less the paparazzi!”

Nigel held her lightly by the shoulders and smoothed down the fabric on her arms. 

“Darling, you have lived with Miranda for nearly nine months now. Don’t you realise that nothing about her is low-key? She is the Queen of New York fashion after all. Gold star tabloid fodder. 

“While you were both away they had a field day here about her divorce settlement, all across the papers and social media, and there were multiple hints about what she’d do next, that, shock horror, she was planning to marry her young female assistant. You can bet on the fact that for the next three weeks, entertainment and society columnists will be madly researching where and when your wedding will be. It will be a miracle if you can keep them away.”

Andy shivered. “Why did I think everything was going so well? I’ll change back out of this dress now. Knowing my luck, I’ll pour coffee all down the front of it, if I’m not careful. Then I must go back to Emily and see what she’s managed to find out about our double booking.” 

She slithered out of the dress and hung it up very carefully inside its protective bag, then pulled on the perfectly ordinary, completely non high-end clothes she was wearing before. They felt like a home-town friend, slightly worn and frayed, but comfortable and warm. She tied up the laces of her trainers, and went back to Emily. 

“So, it’s not some nightmare? Did we really get double-booked?”

“Yep. Bang on. It seems for some mad reason they thought we were one wedding. One mention of Miranda Priestly on the guest list for mine and they lost all common sense. I chewed them into tiny pieces and almost threatened that both of us would cancel, but then I realised we can’t. International flights are booked. Miranda’s brother Charles, and your sister from Australia and Japan, Serena’s parents from Brazil, my father and his weird woman from London. We just have to find a way round it.”

“What did the Inn say? Did they have any constructive ideas?”

“Well, they grovelled a lot, as they should, but they did say they have an arrangement with the Inn next door, which could possibly give them fifteen more rooms, just across the lane. And they suggested they could do a double reception, increase the size of a marquee on their lawn.”

“So it might work?”

“Yes, it might, just. Who’s your celebrant?”

“A local registered official, a woman. She’s called Agatha Burrows. We have a date next week to discuss the ceremony.”

“She also doing ours! She actually mentioned she had another wedding the same day when we booked in.” 

“And the caterers, we need to combine the order so they can work together.”

“And the florists, and the table designers, and the band, and the . . . . “

“Heck, Em, let’s do it. You and I, you know between us, we could sort this. It’s what we’re good at. It might all work out for the best.”

“We could perhaps do it, if there’s no alternative. But I first have to explain it all to Serena. She’s bound to feel overshadowed by Miranda. She may not want to share.”

“What about you? How do you feel about getting married the same day as me?”

Emily pulled a face. “Not sure. I rather hoped you might be my bridesmaid, as long as you don’t fall over going up the aisle, or turn up in hideous clothes and wellington boots. But there’s safety in numbers. Seri and I might still need protection from our fathers. Miranda certainly threw a curved ball at Dad during your Christmas party to shut him up. I never did discover what she said, but he’s been quiet as a mouse ever since.”

“Miranda is the one we have to convince.”

The two looked at each other, as they considered the size of this challenge. 

Andy would have to explain the new idea very calmly and gently to Miranda. And they both worried that Nigel was over-optimistic if he thought Miranda would be too much in love to care. She always cared, about the smallest detail, and this wasn’t a tiny detail. Not in any way. 

Andy looked at her phone to check the time. Miranda’s plane would have landed in Cincinnati just about now. Should she take the plunge and call her? Or was that not a good idea?

She decided to wait for a while.

“Fancy a Starbucks?” asked Emily. “For old times’ sake?”

“You’re on!” smiled Andy. “Come on. Let’s take a little break.”

So, together, they walked along to the elevators, and down to the foyer, then out into the New York spring sunshine. What Miranda didn’t know, couldn’t upset her, just for now at least. But they would both have to each tell their fiancées soon, and that certainly wasn’t going to be easy.


	2. We could live in a trailer!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda goes to Ohio to collect her children. They give her a tour and show her an alternative life-style which could be hers for the asking.

“Mom, you must come and see the trailer behind the barn. We’ve worked it all out! You and Andy can have the bedroom, and we can sleep on the fold out beds in the main room. There’s tons of space!”

Cassidy and Caroline had flung themselves enthusiastically into Miranda’s arms the moment they and Jenny had met her at Cincinnati airport. Ever since then, though, they had both been showering her with information about their hatched plot for the whole New York family to move out to Ohio. Their masterplan seemed to be that the four of them would all live in an old static trailer behind the chicken house on Jenny and Richard’s place. 

Miranda could hardly prevent herself laughing as she and Jenny exchanged meaningful glances as they drove back to the little ranch, but the twins in the back seat were deadly serious.

“What have you done to bewitch my children? “ Miranda demanded. “Ten days here, and they want to live with you for ever?”

“Don’t worry, Miri. Once they get home, things will get back into proportion. We have had a great time with them both though. Thank-you for the gift of them. I reckon it’s taken ten years off Richard, and Momma has been chasing them round like a spring lamb.” 

“No, I want to thank you, Jen. More than I can say. And especially for shielding them from the tabloids.” Miranda kept her voice very low as she sat in the front seat next to Jenny who was driving. The girls were now chatting away to each other in the back, lost in their own little world.

“It was nothing. We all loved the camping trip.”

“Even Caroline?”

“Oh yes. She’s a tougher cookie than you think underneath. Though she did make us check our boots for rattle-snakes every morning.”

“Do you think they caught wind of any of the media nasties?”

“No, not a hint. And by chance, they mentioned what fun it would be to take a camping trip, even before we did. So going into isolation for three days was easy."

They drew up at the Sachs spread, and Miranda felt it was indeed becoming like a second home. This was her third visit, and while she and Richard were still a little wary of upsetting each other, she regarded Jennie just like a beloved older sister, not a prospective mother-in-law, and Momma treated her like a daughter.

The old lady came out of the front door to meet them as they parked the car. She was now walking firmly and straight without a cane, which was remarkable after less than six weeks since her hip replacement operation. 

Miranda fell into her arms and allowed Momma to give her a bear-hug, and a kiss on both cheeks. “Darlin’ girl! Welcome! But you’ve come on your own? Not brought our little cat-fish with you?”

“No, I asked her, but Andy said she needed to make sure all the wedding arrangements were perfect, and every day counts.”

“About the wedding, Nigel phoned,” said Jenny as they went inside, Caroline and Cassie clinging to their mother’s arms. “He had a long conversation with the twins about your wedding outfit, and theirs. Caroline has got very definite ideas apparently! But he also talked to me again about your bright idea of a photo shoot with me. It seems he’s still planning to bring a film crew out here to embarrass me at work. I told him we can’t include any of my young clients in the shots.”

“No, of course not. But that’s a great idea, to include your natural habitat! And maybe even Momma might agree to a portrait. She has a fascinating face, quintessential old America in so many ways.”

It was lucky Momma had left the room to put some coffee on. Jenny wasn’t sure if her mother would want to represent ‘old America’ through the pages of Runway. 

But she knew what Miranda meant. Momma typified solid values of endurance, she’d been born in 1920 after all, and kindliness, and also thrift. She would die from shock if she really understood the cost of the clothes featured in Runway every month. She still wore the same raincoat she had when Jennie was a young working mother, dropping off her younger children with her every day, more than twenty years before. It made Jenny remember something she wanted to ask Miranda.

“Miri darling, can you have a chat with Mom to help her choose a suitable outfit for your wedding while you’re here. She thinks she’ll wear the same knitted two-piece she came to your birthday party in. But that is at least five years old. She bought it for Margot’s wedding. I think she deserves something new. Maybe you can help her look through the online stores with her? I know you haven’t the time to take her into Cincinnati, but I’m sure she’ll listen to you.”

“Sure, of course I will. I would love to dress her.”

They had their coffee, with the twins hopping impatiently from one foot to another, then Miranda gave in and let the girls take her on a tour of their new projects all over the site. They showed her the old hen-hut they had repaired and renovated, and even painted up smartly for the young pullets bred from the hatching eggs. It was now decorated in a fetching mix of violet and yellow.

All their new vocabulary of back-yard poultry keeping came tumbling out, and then Miranda was taken to admire a muddy pond on which a little clutch of ducklings were swimming, squeaking in answer to their mother’s quacks. The smell of duck poo didn’t seem to faze the girls at all, even though Miranda stepped very gingerly round the area. 

From the duck-pond they then took their mother down to see the vegetable garden, where the rows of beans and peas they’d sown were peeping through the black earth. A complicated network of black thread and old CDs was arranged over the seedlings, to keep off the pigeons and other birds.

“Grandpa Richard showed us how to do it. We went through his old collection of CDs. Honestly Mom, the man had some strange tastes in music!”

The piece de resistance of course was in the barn where Miranda had collected apples the previous Fall, and here the girls wanted to show Miranda their horses, both beautifully groomed, with oiled hooves and plaited manes. Andy’s old pony Patches hadn’t collapsed from fatigue from being ridden so often thank goodness, but he was dozing contentedly in his stall, next to the little mare Richard had borrowed from the neighbours for Caroline to ride. 

“It’s so tragic. We will have to take out their braids this afternoon. They then have to both go back to the neighbours’ place tomorrow,” said Cassidy. “The grown-ups have all decided it will be better for them both to have each other for company, and there is more grazing over there. Of course if we lived here . . .”

“Darling, wonderful as your idea is, you know I have to get back to work soon, and that means we have to live in New York. And you enjoy Daltons’ school, don’t you. School is waiting there for you. It reopens tomorrow.”

Her little girls, well, not so little any more, if she was honest, both looked close to tears. She tried to brighten their miserable faces.

“Come on, Andy is desperate to see you, and Matilda, and Pumpkin as well. We will all come back here in the summer. I promise.”

“Really promise?”

“Cross my heart.”

“Oh well then. And we’ll see Granny Jen and Momma and Grandpa at your wedding, won’t we?”

“Absolutely!”

“Oh O.K. But do come and look in the trailer. We’ve been using it as a den, and have decorated it with art-work. It’s really swell!”

So Miranda allowed herself to be taken into the thirty year old trailer, sit down on a very dusty sofa, and learn all about all the wonderful ways it could be converted into living space or bedroom. The wardrobe was exactly eighteen inches wide.

“Not a lot of hanging space,” she suggested. “I don’t think either of you could squeeze a tenth of your clothes in here.” She didn’t even mention her long walk-in closet which housed more clothes than the Universal Studios costume department.

Caroline reluctantly agreed, but said, “Granny Jen says less is sometimes better than more, you know. She says the new idea is to go for minimal . . . you know the word that means least stuff.”

“Minimalism,” muttered Cassidy. “Mommy, if we have to go back, can we take our art-work with us?”

“Of course,” said Miranda, “Let me help you take your pictures down and we can put them all into a folder.”

As she helped them pack up and tidy away their stuff from the trailer, she remembered her childhood, packing up her few possessions and moving from the children’s home to one foster home, and then to another, and another. Despite all appearances, Miranda did understand very well the concept of minimalism.

Their return flight was booked for 6pm, so there were several free hours after lunch, during which Miranda sat down next to Momma and gently steered the conversation round to clothes and what she might wear to the wedding  
.  
“What are you wearing?” asked Momma, with a raised eye-brow. “Gettin’ all dolled up of course I suppose. Not that you need to, darlin’. You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, after my Jenny of course.”

Miranda agreed. Jenny objectively was one of the handsomest women she had ever met. A quarter Cherokee, according to Momma, she had passed on her genes to Andy, but retained enough of them to make her easily fit in as a Runway model, She was tall, elegant, slim as a reed, and looked like she was descended from one of the crowned heads of Europe.

“Momma, you too, I want you to look as fabulous as you deserve. Don’t you think Andy’s wedding warrants a new outfit? The girls and I are wearing ice-blue. Maybe we can find something online which will complement that.”

Miranda pulled out her IPad, and started to scroll down. She had a designer in mind who would exactly suit the older woman. She took note as well of Momma’s preference for pants and a less feminine look.

“Here, how about this? See the model has silver hair, like yours. It’s a pant suit in pale blue linen, with a long white linen shirt underneath. It would suit you no end, and I even know a classy little beauty salon up in Provincetown which would do your hair on the morning of the wedding. Would you like a hat or a crazy cap, or maybe even a fascinator to finish it all off?”

Momma knew she was being hustled along, but she secretly liked it. She basked under Miranda’s charm.

“Don’t you think I’m fascinatin’ enough without all that stuff on my head? How much would it cost?” she asked. 

“Oh money and fair words,” said Miranda dismissively. “Don’t worry. I get a discount with all these folks. It will be my pleasure to treat you.”

“Well, if you think I should. I don’t want to let Andy down on her big day.”

“Of course you don’t. So it’s settled then. I’ll get the clothes sent to you here before you know it.”

Miranda made a mental note of Momma’s size, an exercise as easy to her as counting to five, and they were finished. She left the elderly soul looking at the outfits on her IPad with astonished eyes, and went to find Jenny. 

“All sorted! Expect a delivery in the next three days. Also, I want you, Richard and Momma to have the best rooms at the Inn, and Andrea can stay with you as well the night before. Charles, the twins and I can stay at the beach cottage. Have you booked in yet?” 

Jenny said, “No, because we are waiting to have Hannah and Harry join us. But I’ll book us in soon. The rest of the family are sorting themselves out. It’s really generous of you Miri. I heard you tell Momma she doesn’t have to worry about the cost of her outfit, but we can cover it, honestly.”

“Oh Pooh!” retorted Miranda. “It gives me joy. Don’t spoil it for me. You have given me the greatest gift of my life in the shape of your daughter. I still can’t believe she has agreed to marry me.”

Just then Cass and Caroline came down from their room, carrying Caroline’s cello, a music stand and a sheaf of music. 

“Mom, before we leave, can we give you all a little concert of the Christmas waltz we wrote and which Uncle Charles has arranged for us. He’s going to play a second Cello part but this will give you an idea. We are going to play at your wedding, so you and Andy can lead off with the dancing.”

The three women gathered together on the long sofa, and the girls tuned up, Cassidy sitting at the old family piano in the main living room. Then they stopped being little girls and turned into focused musicians. Cassidy started off on the key board, and then Caroline joined her on the cello. In six months she had started to produce a beautiful tone and perfect tuning. 

The waltz they had written for Miranda, which had come as such a surprise to her at Christmas, was now transformed from piano duet into a wonderful cello and piano piece of music. When they finished they looked up with happy, rosy faces, and were shocked to see tears pouring down their mother’s face.

“Mom! Sorry! Don’t you like it?”

Miranda sought for a handkerchief and was so grateful when Jenny pushed one into her hand. Between sobs, she said, “Yes, darlings, I loved it when you first played it, and I love it even more now. I am so, so proud of you! I’m just overwhelmed.”

“Don’t cry, Mommy, please don’t cry.” 

The girls rushed over and physically squashed Miranda into the sofa by sitting on her lap, both of them. Jenny congratulated them as well. “I know you’ve been practising it ever since your uncle faxed it through, but that really was exceptional. Everyone at the wedding will love it!”

Momma was quiet for a few moments, then said. “My, my, we sure are a musical family. Now let’s go and have one last visit with the chooks before we have to pack you up and send you back to that old city.”

She could see Miranda was still fragile, and was also being seriously crushed by her offspring. The girls obeyed and stood up. Caroline packed her cello into its case and put it by the door ready to leave, and then they went out into the sunshine with Momma. 

Jenny and Miranda sat quietly on the sofa together, and Jenny took her hand.Miranda dried her tears as best she could. 

“It’s just, you know, just a little overwhelming all of it, to think how much I’ve been given, after so many years of suppressing the pain, or snapping and snarling at everyone to keep them away. It takes a bit of getting used to, being happy, and whole.”

Jenny pulled her in against her shoulder, and let her rest there. “You deserve to be happy, every bit of it. Andy adores you, and with good reason. If I were gay, I would too, and that would be complicated!”

Miranda chuckled, and said, “Yes it would be. But as a friend, and as my lode-star, no-one could ever match you. This is the first time I’ve cried in months. I am healing, improving, learning to love myself, and so much of that is down to you as well as Andrea.”

“What is she doing today? Do you want to call her?”

“She’s gone into Runway to have a dress fitting with Nigel. He’ll look after her. I am staying right out of it. It’s traditional not to see the bride’s dress, if you’re the groom, which I suppose I sort of am. Lesbian weddings will be bound to develop a culture of their own though, as they become more common.”

“Well her Dad is very keen to give her away.”

“I know. Everything about the wedding should be perfect for her. I want her to look back and see it as the happiest day of her life. And what could go wrong?”

“What indeed. You have nothing to worry about.”

And Miranda agreed. Nothing to worry about at all . . . .


	3. Something about clamping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Worrying news from Boston changes Miranda's plans

It was late that evening when Miranda and Andy finally brought their girls back to the town-house. Andy had taken the Lexus over to JFK airport to meet the evening flight, and scoop up all the luggage and the cello, along with her family.

The girls were drooping, but excited to see her, and Miranda looked exhausted but slightly high from the success of her mission. A round trip to Cincinnati and meeting Jenny and Momma had seemed a day very well spent. Her girls were now home, the family was safely together again, and darling Andy was waiting at the gate to meet her.

Cara had cooked them a turkey lasagne and left it in the warm oven ready to serve, and they plated up the food and took it through to the family room to eat on their laps. The girls never stopped talking and telling Andy all about their amazing week riding and building hen huts, and how they envied her growing up in such a magical place as Cincinnati . Andrea was a little stunned. Compared to their lives, her childhood had been mundane with a capital M.

When they had eaten, she took them upstairs to bed, and quietly talked them down from their high-octane excitement. She could see they were over-tired. She made them think about resuming school the next day, and how everything would be back to normal. She wanted them settled because she needed to talk at length to Miranda about the wedding double booking, without the children eaves-dropping. Then she remembered.

“Have your Dad and Cindy been in touch this week?”

“Oh yes. Everything’s fine, he says, except Cindy has got something about clamping on at the moment. She’s gone into hospital.” Said Caroline. “Nothing to worry about,” said Cassidy, “that’s what Dad told us.”

“When was this?”

“Last Wednesday. They went home from their honeymoon early because they had to get the clamps on or something.”

“Goodnight darlings. Mommy will be up in ten minutes to give you a final goodnight kiss.”

She turned off their lights and quietly closed their bedroom doors, then flew down the stairs back to Miranda. 

“The twins have just told me, though they obviously didn’t understand how serious it is, that Cindy has pre-eclampsia and is in hospital! She’s been there five days now!”

“Oh my God!” At least Miranda replied with the appropriate level of concern. “I was just thinking about them. I’ll call Geoff now.”

“Maybe texting might be better. If he’s in the hospital with her.”

“Then can you do it? You know how bad I am at texting.”

“Sure.”

Andy rapidly spelled out a message on Miranda’s phone and they sent it off. Then Miranda went upstairs to settle the twins with a final kiss while Andrea anxiously watched the phone, as she gathered up the supper dishes and put them in the dish-washer. 

She heard the phone buzz and vibrate as a message came back. 

“Yes. In ICU. They may induce the baby tomorrow or do a C-section. BP very high. Am v. worried now. Cindy’s Mom hysterical. No help. Can you come?”

“Oh no, Geoff assumes he is talking to Miranda! Surely he doesn’t need her to go up to Boston right now,” thought Andy, knowing how truly tired Miranda must be.

The object of her affections came back into the kitchen shortly afterwards and Andy brought her up to speed. Miranda said, “Text him back and ask if he can take a call. I obviously need to have a word.”

When the second text had gone, there was an immediate ringtone on the phone, and Miranda picked it up, pinching the top of her nose to ease her tired eyes as she did so. Geoff had come out into the hospital lobby to call and was obviously in a fine old state.

“They have Cindy confined to bed with her feet up, and a permanent Vital signs monitor ticking away all the time. Her mother is having a tizzy fit. Look can you come up? I know it’s an imposition, but I can only look after one of them, and Cindy is my priority. They think they should see to it that the baby is born tomorrow, even though it’s a week early. They seem really worried about Eclampsia setting in.”

Miranda could tell her ex-husband was seriously distraught, which was a sign things were bad, as he had usually been the calmer one of the two of them, when they were married. Although rather crucially he had actually passed out in the delivery room when the twins were born. She took a deep breath. 

“O.K. I need a night’s sleep right now. Let’s talk this through first thing tomorrow morning, and if you really need me, I can leave Andy here in charge of the twins and I’ll fly up to Boston for the day.”

“Thanks girl. You’re the best. I know Cindy will feel much better if you are here. Her mother tries hard but simply drives her crazy.”

Miranda put the phone away from her ear and shook her head at the incongruity of it all. But it was too late now to fret about. She turned out the lights, smiled at the baby animals curled up asleep together in the basket under the kitchen table, and followed Andrea back up towards the light at the top of the stairs. At least wherever Andy was, there would always be peace and joy, well mostly always. 

She could hear Andy vigorously cleaning her teeth in the bathroom, and began to disrobe. The rigours of the day had left her feeling stiff and very crumpled, so she decided to shower before going to bed. She entered their en-suite bathroom behind Andy and teasingly goosed her up as she stood in front of the wash-basin.

Andy’s mouth was full of toothpaste, so she couldn’t do more than squeak in protest, and watch in absolute appreciation as Miranda slipped past her, discarding the last of her underwear as she went, and stepped into the shower, turning on the hot tap full-blast. 

They had an indistinct conversation over the sound of the water. Andy thought Miranda asked “How was your fitting at Runway? Any problems with the dress?” though she wasn’t sure. Andy replied cautiously, “No, that’s fine, but there is just one big thing we need to talk about.”

Miranda misheard her, and responded, “Brilliant, I’m way past talking. Just show me my bed and lead me to it.”

She came out of the shower and took the large towel which Andy had ready for her. 

“Honestly darling, I think the jet-lag has really caught up with me. Come to bed and let me sleep on your beautiful breast. I’m past logical thought and I may have to fly to Boston first thing in the morning.”

“Not a good time to bring up the snafu over the wedding booking then,” thought Andy. She wasn’t altogether sorry, as the thought of Miranda’s reaction on finding out about Emily and Serena’s invasion of their special day, wasn’t a pleasant one. She would do it first thing in the morning.

She led Miranda back to their bedroom, and lovingly dried off the last of the shower droplets from her shoulders. Then helping her into pyjamas, and slipping on her own night-shirt, one with a picture of Winnie the Pooh and Piglet on it, she rolled them both into bed, and turned off the lamp. Miranda was asleep almost before she could draw up the covers, and within minutes Andy was as well.

But there was no time to talk about the wedding arrangements the following morning either. Miranda, having had a solid seven hours sleep, was her old dynamic self again, and was storming out of the house on the way to Boston, while Andy was scarcely awake and the girls were still dreamily stirring peanut butter into their oatmeal. She’d obviously been up at dawn and made some decisions as well as phone-calls.

“You three look after each other now, and girls, Cara will be arriving soon to take you to school and collect you. God willing, I’ll be back before bed-time with news of your new little brother. Andy I’m leaving you with a lovely quiet day to complete editing your novel.”

Roy had manifested himself at the door to take Miranda through the traffic to the airport, and she’d parted from Andy and the twins with big hugs and quick kisses all round. After she’d gone, Caroline said happily, “Almost like old times. Super Mom leaving the house before eight every morning. Are you really going to work on your novel, Andy? When can Cassie and I read it?”

Andy thought about the several explicit sex scenes within her novel and smiled enigmatically. “Oh it’s so boring. You wouldn’t like it at all,” she lied blandly. “There’s nothing about children or ponies, or anything much. Maybe my next book will be more up your street.”

Cassie had her mind on other things. “I do hope Cindy is going to be OK. And Bumpy. Is Mom going to Boston to help her push him out?”

“Well, not exactly, more to be a friend and stay with Cindy’s Mom while he’s being born.”

“It’s great that Mom and Dad are friends now. That’s down to you Andy. When Stephen lived here, we were never allowed to mention Dad.”

It was the first time in many months that the twins had even mentioned Stephen, and Andy’s head shot up in response. Two little faces looked at her over their porridge bowls. “Can we tell you a secret, Andy?” asked Cassie.

“Of course.”

“Well don’t tell Mom, but our friend Sally texted us in Ohio to say that stuff about him and Mom getting divorced was all over the newspapers last week, really horrible stuff about Mum.”

“We didn’t want Granny Jen to know, as she’d be upset, so we decided to take her and Grandpa off camping for a few days away from the TV. They seemed really keen when we mentioned it, so it was a great plan. We don’t want Mom to know about all of this. It was great you were in Italy last week.”

“My darling girls, you are the most kind and thoughtful poppets. But don’t worry about your Mommy. She did hear about it, but it hasn’t bothered her too much. Let’s forget about Stephen now. He won’t ever be coming back here, anyway, and the wedding can now go ahead without any problems.”

“Will your wedding be like Dad’s? We’re getting quite used to being bridesmaids now.”

“Well, no, not exactly. But I promise it will be fun. Now let’s get ready for school. You have exactly fifteen minutes to pack your bags and finish your teeth and hair before Cara arrives.” 

A frantic twenty minutes then ensued, but then silence fell over the house, and Andy picked up both her puppy and Pumpkin, and carried them out into the yard. 

“’A lovely quiet day’? I don’t think so somehow,” she said to them as they explored the garden together. She had so wanted to run the new arrangements past Miranda before taking any action, but there just hadn’t been an appropriate moment. Then, as if on cue, Emily’s number flashed up on her phone as it started to buzz, and she knew a load of angst and rearranging of virtually every aspect of their wedding was coming down the road to meet her.

“Hello Em,” she said cautiously. “How are you?”


	4. Happy as a Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda goes to Boston, and decides to take a side-trip over to Provincetown. This may turn out to be an unfortunate decision.

Miranda’s flight arrived into Logan International Airport more or less on time, and she joined the long line of business flyers walking swiftly down the wide corridors towards the domestic exit gates. Everyone seemed so drab, dressed almost uniformly in blacks and greys, and nearly all with ears glued to their I Phones, even as they walked. 

She knew she stood out like an exotic summer rose in her Prada coat and dress, and she enjoyed the sound of her clicking heels as they tapped across the foyer. It was good to be out in the world, to have a definite target, a mission. She realised that the long period of relaxation she’d needed after her September breakdown had done its good work, and she was regaining an energy she’d not had in years. 

Helping Cindy give birth was a worthy initial project, then there was the Wedding of course, which she intended to mastermind and make wonderful for Andy, and then she thought she would focus on a twelve week modern art study programme for the summer. Miranda had been reflecting on their trip to Italy, and how Andy had chuckled when she had dismissed the modern art at the Peggy Guggenheim museum as “drips and daubs.” She knew it made her sound like an art moron.

There must be more to the last hundred years of artistic expression than that, and she was determined to mine the best that New York MOMA had to offer by way of instruction. If she was going to criticise modern art, she at least should know as much about it as she could. It was a stupid gap in her cultural education.

These were the thoughts swirling round her brain, but as Miranda strode towards the exit she decided, not to get a taxi, but to hire a car for the day. If all went well with Cindy, maybe she would then have time to slip away and make the two hour trip over to Provincetown, to check up on the hotel arrangements, and discuss catering issues for the wedding. 

It would save Andy the trouble anyway. So Miranda changed direction and headed off to the car-hire booths, choosing the one with the shortest line, which naturally had the most expensive cars. 

When she later parked up at the hospital and left the keys to the zippy little Mercedes she’d chosen, with the guy in charge of the premium lot, she felt even more positive and focused. The hospital was the size of a small town, but putting on her positive but firm face, she asked the way to maternity, and was directed to the third floor. 

It took a while, but eventually she negotiated various signings, and entered the right unit. She’d managed to text Geoff with the short but effective message. “Here.” And he came out to greet her. He looked as though he hadn’t slept in two nights, which was realistic, as he hadn’t.

“Hi girl!”

“Hi, how are things?”

“They are prepping her now. Two of us can go in, if we gown up completely. The only trouble is Cindy’s Mom wants to be there, and Cindy doesn’t really want her faffing around. And me, you know me with the sight of blood. I worry I’ll pass out like I did with the twins.”

“Look, I’ll go in, with Della, and keep the peace between them. You stay here, and when it’s over, I’ll swop with you and you can go in to see your son all wrapped up and lovely. Babies always look better after a C-section. Not like a purple prune after having to come through the birth canal. There won’t be much blood on show.”

“I knew you’d be able to make things OK. Thank you girl, so much.”

“I’m no angel, Geoff, nor a miracle worker.”

“No, but you are a damn good project manager.”

Miranda was already taking off her coat as they walked into the ante-room. She thought Geoff’s compliment was one of the most genuine he’d ever paid her.

Della had already jumped the gun and was dressed from head to foot in the hospital scrubs. There was no-way she was going to miss her grandson’s birth, but she was desperately afraid for Cindy, who was sedated on the gurney, and had already been administered a powerful epidural anaesthetic so they could perform the operation without her feeling a thing. In that way she could still be conscious enough to see her baby, just as he was born. 

Miranda took the offered scrubs, mask and shoes covering, and went to divest herself of her outer clothes, her heeled shoes and all her rings, watch and other jewellery, passing them to Geoff for safe keeping. Then she thoroughly washed her hands and put on the protective clothes. Like two green space men she and Della then accompanied Cindy and her nursing team through into the theatre, while Geoff sat down outside, secretly mightily relieved not to have to join them in the operating theatre. 

Miranda took Cindy’s hand and squeezed her fingers. “Don’t worry, honey. You’ll be fine, it will soon be over.” The girl looked up at her, terrified, but very happy to see her beside her.

Cindy’s blood-pressure monitor was continuously beeping, recording dangerously high levels of everything as far as Miranda could tell. The doctors were obviously very concerned, and she knew Eclampsia was a real threat. They told the visitors to stand well back as the team of medics surrounded the patient. Then the lead surgeon lifted a scalpel and said, “Everybody in place? Then I’ll make the initial incision. Stand by.”

As she then obviously made a cut into Cindy’s abdomen, Miranda felt Della sway violently beside her, and just managed to catch her before she did a “Geoff” on the floor. Two junior nurses took over, obviously used to swooning relatives, and bustled Della straight back out of the theatre. So that was as far as Della got in supporting her daughter.

Miranda ended up being the only birthing partner accompanying her ex-husband’s new wife through the birth of their child. And as she confessed to Andy later, she thoroughly enjoyed it.

She loved the drama, the excitement and the absolute miracle of seeing the little fellow being lifted out, the quick cutting and clamping of the cord, the checking for vital signs and the way the doctor swung him almost like a baby lamb to clear his airwaves and get him breathing. The sound of his cry, definite and lusty, brought tears to her eyes, and she let Cindy crush her fingers, as she too was crying with adrenalin and relief. The medics immediately began sewing up their incision, and dealing with the afterbirth.

“My, he’s big,” Miranda said. The nurses were weighing the little boy before wrapping him up and placing him on Cindy’s chest, so she could see and smell her new-born. “10. 2lbs” they announced. Cindy blinked, and lifted her finger to brush his little cheek. He had a shock of black hair, and bright blue eyes like little sapphires. As Miranda had predicted, he was a nice pink colour, not blue or purple like most new-borns. 

“No way would you have enjoyed pushing him out, sweetie, your hips are too small. It’s much better this way.”

“But I so much wanted to give birth naturally.”

“Yes, I know. But once you heal up, you’ll feel fine. He’s a lovely child. I am going to tell Geoff and Della. They’ll be wanting to come in now.”

“Thank you Miranda. Thanks so much. Will you be his godmother?”

Cindy was only half conscious so Miranda didn’t think she’d remember, and now didn’t seem the right time to talk about agnostic tendencies. So she replied with a smile, “Yes, of course, as long as his name isn’t ridiculous. I’d be honoured.”

She left the mother and baby to get acquainted, and slipped out of the theatre at the same time as they were wheeled out themselves into a post-delivery room. Cindy wasn’t out of the woods yet, but having given birth safely to a healthy child everything would be so much more positive, and the risks diminished. Her life was no longer in such acute danger. 

When she came through the door, Geoff and Della both leapt at her. “So? How are they? We heard him cry. How is Cindy?”

“Fine, fine, they’re both fine, and the danger is over. You have a bonny son. He’s gorgeous. You can both go through now and see for yourselves.”

Miranda tugged off her mask and began undoing the hospital gowns and gloves she was wearing, as the others disappeared, escorted by a nurse. She sat down heavily on a chair and caught her breath, thinking about the birth she had just witnessed. It took her back nearly eleven years to her own motherhood, in her case to a long but natural labour producing not one, but two new-borns.

In the twins’ case, they had definitely been purple, squealing scraps of humanity, and it had taken Geoff a full twenty minutes after Cassidy’s birth before he was even conscious enough to take in the reality that he was to be the father of twin girls. She was genuinely happy for him and Cindy now though.

Geoff was still sober and determined to spend more time at home with his present wife and child than he ever had with Miranda. They would be OK, and she was also sure Della would calm down and stop fussing, now she had a grandson to cuddle and coo over. 

But then Miranda thought of Andy, back home, lovingly caring for her twins, and realised how very likely she too would want a baby, or babies before too long. And who was Miranda to deny her that joy? How to build their family without a male on the scene? That was the obvious question to ask. There must be a solution somehow that would be the right fit for them. 

An hour later, after a very light lunch in the hospital cafeteria, while Cindy enjoyed a deep sleep, and Geoff began phoning all his mates, his mother and even the guy who cut his lawns, with the good news, Miranda followed up her plan to drive across to Provincetown. Just before leaving she texted Andy with the good news, pleased she was getting better at hitting the right keys. It came out a little wonky, but she was improving. “BSBY COME ALL OK GOUNG to PTown. CUSoon.” 

She thought Caroline would be proud of her. 

When she received Miranda’s text, Andy was sitting next to Emily in her office at Runway, with a large sheet of paper in front of her on which they were both brainstorming the problems they had to solve regarding the wedding. She felt her phone vibrate against her leg, pulled it out, read the message, read it again to turn it into English and then gave a little scream.

“What?” asked Emily, who had gone through enough trauma in the last twenty-four hours explaining their problem to Serena. That hadn’t gone down well, to put it mildly, but she had come round grudgingly in the end.

Andy looked up. “It’s Miranda. She’s in Boston and tells me, I think, that she’s including a side-trip over to Provincetown! That means she’ll be going to the Inn! I told you I haven’t yet had a chance to explain about the double booking and our plan to combine the two weddings. I know I should have found the time and courage last night! She’ll turn up there and they’ll assume she knows the new arrangements. I can see this becoming a catastrophe!”

“Can you catch her? Phone her back! It ‘ll be much better if you tell her yourself.”

“Obviously.” Andy called the number on the text but Miranda’s phone simply said in that annoying way, “The person you are calling cannot take your call right now. Please leave a message.”

It wasn’t at all how Andrea wanted to deal with it, but she fumbled out a message. "Miranda, darling. Call me as soon as you get this. Call me before you go to the Inn. It’s really important!”

But Miranda was already in the outside lane on the highway east from Boston. Her phone was tucked away in her bag, and she didn’t even hear the message bleep. Her plan was to drive as fast as was legal over to Provincetown, to talk to the owners of the Inn for half an hour. Then she could just about have time to check on the beach house, as she and Andrea hadn’t been there since mid-February, and then drive back to Logan airport to catch the seven o’clock flight back to New York.

If she wasn’t distracted, she could do it, just. She liked the Mercedes coupe, and having paid for it, was determined to enjoy the drive, so she turned up the radio, slid back the electric roof and put her foot down. Miranda was as happy as a bird.


	5. Cross as a Wasp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda catches up with the plot and is upset about the way it is turning out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters for the price of one today. Mainly because it is Thursday. Don't you just hate Thursdays? I thought you might all need cheering up with a bit more drama.

Mel Carroll was pruning the early roses along the front drive of the Windhover Inn. They were her pride and joy and she was determined to get rid of the greenfly which had infested them so early in the year, blowing in on a westward breeze somehow. It was also an exercise to calm her shattered nerves, which had been on a roller-coaster over the last twenty-four hours.

She was normally a very contented woman, happy in her marriage to Frieda, her woman partner of thirty years, and joint owner of their Inn by the sea in gay-friendly Provincetown. It was an establishment which had started being owned by the bank far more than by them, and even getting as far as opening it had been a giant struggle in itself. 

Two gay women school teachers were not usually approved as business mortgage holders in the late seventies, even in liberal Cape Cod, but they had persevered through various banks and brokers until they found one who grudgingly agreed to lend them the money, and Frieda’s parents in Germany then left them enough inheritance to refurbish and extend the old property. 

The Windhover was now one of the smartest Inns on the Cape, with a shining row of stars next to it on TripAdvisor, and they were usually booked up solid from Memorial Day right through to Labor Day in early September. But nothing, nothing, had prepared them for the publicity and glory they knew would come their way when Miranda Priestly of all people had given them her blessing, and actually booked them as the venue for her wedding to her young and glamorous girl-friend. It could be the New England wedding of the year. 

Yesterday’s realisation however, that Frieda had somehow double-booked another wedding as well for the same day, for Miranda’s assistant of all people, had been a thunderbolt from which she was still recovering. Now they had not one, but two Lesbian extravaganzas, each wanting to fill their inn and inhabit the same space, both asking for every bedroom in the place, and planning to have simultaneous dance-bands, receptions and use of the garden. This had turned what had been a joy into a bloody nightmare. Mel hadn’t slept a wink all night.

She was so sorry she had shouted at Frieda so horribly though when she confessed the mistake. She remembered her cruel words with great remorse. How could Frieda have been so stupid to realise that the second booking didn’t just confirm the first? Why hadn’t she bothered to learn English properly after all these years in the States? Wasn’t she even capable of understanding a simple phone message? 

Frieda had simply dissolved into floods of tears, and was still locked away in her book-room at the top of the house. It was the worst falling out in their entire marriage. Mel felt horrible. She knew it wasn’t just Frieda’s fault. She should have double-checked the strange second booking at once.

She remembered Miranda’s last visit to the Inn, when she had dined with those three beautiful young women, and complimented Mel on the fresh sea-food they’d all had. Andrea, and Emily, and Serena, she remembered their names, all from Runway magazine in New York. She and Frieda had talked about that stunning set of celebrity visitors for ages afterwards. 

It was so unlikely that they would want weddings the same weekend. No wonder Frieda had misunderstood. And then there was Frieda’s new problem, if she was honest. She was getting increasingly forgetful, and muddled at times. Mel couldn’t avoid noticing it, and she knew she had to talk about it, and maybe take her partner for some tests. It hung like a dark cloud over their previously sunny existence.

But then, oh joy! Andrea and Emily had both called back this morning, much calmer and not threatening to sue any more, and had actually suggested they combine the two weddings. She had talked to them herself on speakerphone for an hour, and it looked as though the nightmare was going to be resolved. 

They would keep the times of their separate marriage ceremonies, but everything else would flow together all day. The two bands of musicians would share the gig, one for the afternoon, and the other for the evening dancing. She had also been doing some hard thinking, and told them they could take over the Inn next door as well, the owners there would be pleased to have all their rooms booked out for a weekend in mid- May. 

Then, just as she was taking off her gardening gloves, Mel saw a zippy little Mercedes with Boston plates turn in her gate and run past her up to the parking area beside their main building. Miranda Priestly, she’d know that profile and distinctive hair anywhere! 

She went forward to greet the driver.

“Miranda Priestly! How lovely to see you. I’ve just been talking to your fiancée this morning.”

Miranda jumped out of the car. She had made the trip from the hospital gates in under two hours, so felt very pleased with herself.

“Good afternoon. It’s a flying visit I’m afraid, but I’ve just come to check everything will be in order.”

“Oh yes, thankfully. I can’t apologise enough for the mix-up before, but I think we’ve arrived at a satisfactory solution for you all.”

Miranda looked puzzled. “I’m sorry. You have me at a disadvantage, I’m afraid. What mix-up?”

Mel began to feel uneasy. Could it be that Miranda hadn’t been told of the double booking? She led her inside while she tried to compose her face into something other than naked fear.

“We all found out yesterday morning that your assistant Emily . . . “

“Emily Charlton. She was my assistant until last September certainly. What has that stupid girl done now?”

“Er. Ten days ago Emily and her fiancée booked our Inn as the venue for their wedding as well, probably following your lead, and er, my partner misunderstood their request, and also booked them in for May 15th. We only discovered the error yesterday. We thought it was one large wedding you see.”

Miranda tottered a little on her heels. “How inefficient,” she said, calmly and coldly. “Of course you have rebooked them for another date later in the year.”

Mel felt rather like a small child facing an angry headmistress, even though she was a few years older than Miranda. She tried smiling.

“Please don’t worry. Everything has been sorted out now. Andrea and Emily have both been talking to me and we have found a perfect solution.”

Miranda said nothing, simply raised an immaculate eyebrow. Mel thought maybe smiling wasn’t the most appropriate expression to adopt after all.

“They are . . . joining forces. It will now be a double wedding, two ceremonies but the same reception and wedding meal and evening entertainment. We have taken over rooms at the Inn next door, so we can accommodate everyone.” 

“But I know nothing of this. And I can say immediately, I absolutely refuse to agree to it. It’s a ridiculous idea.”

Miranda’s mind was running all over the place, but she kept her face completely still and used her best Editor in Chief hauteur. This sudden information had devastated her for several reasons. 

One, if not the worst was the knowledge that Andy had blithely gone behind her back and fixed up a three ring circus with Emily of all people, which would include her lying coward of a drug-dealing father invading her and Andy’s wedding, along with half her employees from Runway, and goodness knows how many crazy Brazilians. The paparazzi would have a field day, and the most precious time of her life with Andy, sacred moments just with family and their dearest friends would be destroyed by the invading hordes of young New York fashionistas. Serena had been a top cat-walk model who knew the world and his wife.

Mel Carroll swallowed hard, and tried not to look too fazed. “Obviously you will want to talk to your fiancée. Would you like to use the phone in the lounge?”

“No. I have my own phone in the car. Excuse me.” And Miranda turned on her heel and walked swiftly out of the door. She looked as though she was holding the Inn keeper in contempt, but she was actually trying to avoid breaking down into tears.

She reached into the Mercedes and pulled out her soft leather purse and extracted the I Phone, but when she tried to turn it on, she realised the battery was completely flat, and she couldn’t get a peep from it. She didn’t even have a recharging lead to bring it back to life. 

Sensibly she should have gone back into the Inn, sat down with the owner, who would probably be able to give her a charging lead and boost her phone up enough to contact Andy, or allow her to use the house phone to call her. At least, along with the twins’ cell phone numbers, she knew Andy’s cell number off by heart. It was written on her heart in fact.

But Miranda, after her early start, assisting Cindy at the birth, driving like a mad woman for two hours, and then hearing that her wedding plans were turning upside down, was not being sensible. She simply jumped into the driver’s seat, savagely turned the car round on the gravel drive so that it left deep grooves in the surface and roared out of the gate. 

Mel was left wondering what on earth to do. Part of her was grateful not to have to face anymore of the Runway Editor’s fury. But she really feared what would happen next. Maybe both parties would now cancel, and worse, she almost thought Miranda might crash her car. She hurried to her office, and rang the number she had for Andrea Sachs. 

“Hello Andrea,” she said. “I’m afraid Miranda has just been here, and she has left in a hurry. . . . Yes, I told her . . . Yes, and I am afraid she wasn’t at all happy. In fact she refuses to agree to sharing. . . . No, there was no doubt. She said, absolutely not. I just thought you should know.”

There was a hurried conversation at the other end of the phone. It seemed Andrea and Emily were still together. Then Andy came back on the line. 

“Yes . . . I understand. I will wait to hear from you. If she comes back, I’ll make sure she calls you. But she left very abruptly. I am quite concerned for her. Thanks. Yes . . . . Goodbye.”

Miranda had driven off, not back up the road towards Boston, but three miles further on, to her own lovely little cottage on the beach. There she pulled up the car, opened the door with the key hidden under the geranium pot, and went into the little house which was just as perfect as the day she and Andy had left it in February. 

She remembered the lovely visit they had had over Valentine’s weekend, the brilliant sex they’d enjoyed with Andy’s evil little present, and how she had taken sweet revenge the next day. Andy did love her, surely. So why had she casually changed all their wedding plans, just to fit in with young Ms Charlton’s mistake?

Miranda sat down on the little wooden bench which ran along their veranda and succumbed to tears. She suddenly felt old and sad and unwanted, and a grumpy old woman whom Andy obviously had delayed bringing into the loop, because she guessed she wouldn’t easily agree to changing all their plans.

Her mind went back to all those months when Andy and Emily had shared the outer office at Runway, watching her constantly and no doubt talking about her in her frosty isolation in the inner sanctum. Then she remembered Andy kissing Emily at the Christmas party. Was that purely platonic? It certainly hadn’t looked like it at the time! 

In fact she’d been so fired up, she’d given Andrea a good spanking in bed the following night because of it. (Well, if she was honest, maybe it had just been a good excuse. She often had fantasies about spanking Andy. ) Sex with Andy was always so wonderful, but marrying someone had to be based on a deeper understanding than just how to have fantastic sex together. She almost felt betrayed. 

After twenty minutes of her own company, Miranda had quite convinced herself that her own wedding would now be just a little silliness before Emily and Serena’s nuptials, and what Andy wanted more than anything was to be their bridesmaid, rather than be her bride.

Lovely as the cottage was, and as soothing as it was to her soul, she just hadn’t the time to stay there long enough to regain a sense of proportion and to calm down. She quickly checked the house over to make sure all was secure and tidy, locked it up, and then went back to the car to make the return journey to Boston. She simply could not face returning to the Inn for another embarrassing episode with Mel Carroll. 

As she roared back to Boston, she centred on the nub of her pain. She knew Andy loved her, she believed that at least. But as far as she could see, and this double wedding nonsense confirmed it, Andy also loved everyone else as well. She was as happy to defer to Emily Charlton as she was to Miranda. How could she have fixed anything up without consulting her first? 

This idea grew inside her, all the time she drove, and then handed back her car, and then boarded the commuter flight to New York. By the time Miranda walked through the door of the town-house, it could be said that she was not as happy as a bird, not at all. Exhaustion and fear of rejection, and horrible memories from her childhood all had combined to tip her emotions quite over the edge, and she was in as foul a mood as she had ever felt.

“Hello darling,” said Andy, opening the door with a dreadfully bland smile. “I’m so glad to see you back safely from Boston. The twins have gone to bed, but they talked to their Dad, and saw pictures of the baby. You must be exhausted. Can I pour you a drink?”

Miranda, who couldn’t trust herself to speak, flung down her coat and bag, marched straight past her into the study without a word, and shut the door so firmly, that in anyone else’s house it would have been called a slam. The whole first floor of the property shook.

“Oh hell,” thought Andy. And she reached up to the top shelf in their kitchen for Miranda’s secret bottle of Scotch, pulled over a couple of glasses, and began to fill them. She saw a long night ahead.


	6. The Sound of Breaking Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda has a melt-down.

With her hands still damp from picking up ice-cubes, Andy carried two full glasses of scotch, for she reckoned she needed some Dutch courage as well. She pushed down the study door handle with her elbow and stepped inside. Miranda was obviously waiting for her, but standing at the window looking out into the blackness of the back yard. Her whole body was rigid with anger.

Andy knew there was no point in prevaricating. 

“I did try to call you. I did. All day. And last night I wanted to talk, to tell you the bad news, but there was just no time . . . . “

Miranda turned on her heel and flashed her eyes at Andy, who secretly thought, “Oh, she is magnificent when she’s angry, but so scary!”

“Oh, so at least you now think it was bad news? I would have thought you were ecstatic, the way you rushed off with Emily to cook up this ridiculous scheme. Apparently according to the woman at the inn it’s a done deal!”

“Miri . . . “

“Don’t Miri me! I’m not a child, even though you obviously think you can treat me like one!”

“Miranda, darling. Stop! Here have a drink. Sit down and rest your feet, and let me explain!”

“Stop being so bloody condescending! I am in charge of you, not the other way round! Anyway, I’ve cancelled the whole idea. Emily and Serena may do as they please, but they are not invading our wedding!”

“Miranda! Why are you like this? You’re being unreasonable.”

Andrea’s attempts at studied calm and rationality sent Miranda up through the roof. She flipped right back into dragon lift-off mode, and also forgot for a moment that there were children asleep above their heads. She actually shouted at Andrea.

“How dare you speak to me like that? Is it unreasonable to expect my fiancée to show some loyalty to me, to pay me the courtesy of maybe asking how I would like things done? Is it too much to hope that we don’t share the day with a violent ex-con drug dealer, who almost destroyed my childhood and sent one of my best friends to jail?”

“What? What the hell are you talking about now? Have you gone quite mad, Miranda?”

As Andrea tried to pass her a glass of scotch, Miranda hand went up in a violent gesture of despair and there was a sound of crashing glass as she accidentally pushed the drink out of Andy’s wet fingers. It fell with a resounding crash of broken glass and alcohol and ice-cubes were tossed against the wall. They dripped down forlornly onto the recently installed beautiful blue carpet.

It was at that point that two very frightened little faces came bursting through the door, along with a distraught puppy who had already started barking at all the commotion.

“Mommy! Andy! What’s the matter? Are you fighting?”

“Oh please, please don’t fight! We can’t bear it!” 

The twins ran into the study in their pyjamas. Caroline hurled herself sobbing at her mother, while Cassidy rushed over to protect Andy, whom she imagined was being assaulted.

“Mom, don’t hurt Andy! Whatever she did, don’t hurt her! She’s sorry. I’m sure she’ll say she’s sorry. Don’t be angry with her!”

Miranda and Andy stared at each other in horror, and realised they appeared to the twins to be in the middle of a classic scene of domestic violence. The children’s terror immediately altered the dynamic between them, and they acted together to reassure them that no-one was hurting anyone. The glass of scotch falling and breaking had just been an accident. 

They both sat down on the two seater sofa and each pulled a twin onto their laps.

“Sshh, hush, we’re so sorry darlings. Andy and I were only talking. The glass slipped, that’s all. Really, we’re fine.”

“Completely fine,” added Andy, smoothing Cassie’s curls back from her anxious little face. “Everyone has disagreements sometimes. Remember how you nearly pulled Caroline’s hair out that time you thought she’d stolen your book.”

“Are you going to pull Mommy’s hair out?”

“No darling, every hair on your Mom’s head is precious to me. We love each other, very, very much. We would never hurt each other.”

“But we’ve never heard you quarrel before,” said Caroline, “not ever. Mom sounded really angry, just like she used to be when Stephen came in drunk and smelling of trollops.”

Andy had to hide a smile. Wherever had Caroline picked up that word? 

Cassie’s lip quivered. “Don’t you love each other anymore? Is it our fault?”

Miranda bit her lip. She now blamed herself for the whole row, and her anger towards Andrea had turned into acute feelings of guilt. It was unforgiveable to frighten her children like that. She put her arms round them both and held them close.

“My sweet girls. I’m so sorry. I just wrongly blamed Andy for something which wasn’t her fault at all. We do love each other, completely, and we certainly both love you just as much as well. Of course it’s not your fault. Now I’m glad you’ve woken up, because it means that I have the great joy of taking you both back to bed and tucking you in. Let’s go upstairs together.”

She stood up and the girls stood with her, embracing her fiercely. She could tell they were still very anxious and upset.

“And I’ll clean up the glass. Be careful no-one steps in it,” said Andrea, calmly and lightly following Miranda’s cue. “Matilda will help me.”

Caroline smelt the whiskey and turned to her mother with a very stern look. “You must stop drinking, Mommy! Daddy has, so why can’t you?”

Andy felt the need to explain. “That was my fault, darling. Don’t blame your Mom. I just poured her a drink because I knew she’d come in tired and frustrated, that’s all.”

“Alcohol solves nothing!” said Caroline, quoting her paternal grandmother.

“Absolutely right, dear. It won’t happen again. We promise.”

“So are you going to get married? Or is the wedding all off now?” demanded Cassie, still not convinced.

“It’s absolutely going to happen. If Andrea will have me.”

“Which of course I will. What else am I going to do with the rest of my life?”

“Good,” said Cassie. “Because Uncle Nigel is coming round tomorrow, and I want to ask him if I can change my bridesmaid’s dress for a pair of designer pants. Why do bridesmaids always have to wear sissy dresses? That’s what I want to know!”

Absorbing that startling question, Miranda shepherded her girls out of the door and Andy was left to clear up the mess in the study. When they’d all gone, she took a long swallow from her own glass of scotch. 

Despite what they’d said to reassure the children, she knew Miranda and she had had a serious row, and the kids were right. It was the first time they’d ever seriously quarrelled. She knew there was more to say, much more, but where to begin? And what had Miranda been going on about, talking about drug-dealers of all things? Without realising it, she must have touched a very raw nerve for Miranda to fire up like that. 

Matilda, the puppy looked up and cocked her fluffy little head on one side, as if she was asking the same questions. 

“I know sweetie, I know. Now let’s get a cloth and bottle of spray and clean up Mommy’s beautiful study before she comes back.” 

Miranda stayed upstairs for a good forty minutes, presumably to settle her daughters and reassure them again, and again, that she hadn’t meant to hurt their beloved Andy. But when she came back downstairs and met Andy, in the family room this time, it was obvious that she’d also showered and changed out of her day clothes, and was now in her nightgown and robe with bare feet thrust into the fluffy slippers Andy had given her as part of her Christmas present.

The dragon had completely flown, and she looked smaller, warmer and completely vulnerable. She walked towards Andy with tears in her eyes, and Andy drew her in and held her tightly, with tears in her eyes as well. They sat down together on the larger sofa in the room, and Andy pulled Miranda’s head down against her shoulder and kissed her hair. 

“Sweetheart, I am so, so sorry!” she said. “Of course I should have asked you, well, told you, first of all. I just got carried away with problem solving. You know, like at Runway, when we tried to smooth the way in front of you. You never knew half of the disasters which happened on the way to every issue. And of course Emily was distraught and thought, quite rightly, that you would put her on a BBQ and turn the flame up, so we were searching for a solution, that’s all.”

Miranda held her quietly and tried to explain why she’d been so upset. Now though, she wasn’t really so sure herself, except that she hadn’t eaten for nearly twelve hours, and was still exhausted after taking five flights in three days.

“I did know about most of the disasters,” she said quietly, as a preamble. “Even if I didn’t let on. I always had to watch Emily like a hawk. If there was anything to misunderstand, you could guarantee she be there first in line.”

Andy chuckled. “Like when she was trying to work out who you were dating, and sent me off to spy on you?” *

“Yes, exactly. But one crucial thing, Emily hasn’t understood at all, is the fact that I know her father only too well from my teenage years. I recognised him immediately at the Christmas party.** “Bobby” Charlton, the nastiest spiv in South London, who corrupted half the kids at my school, and got my foster-brother sent down for drug-dealing when he was simply acting as one of his runners, that’s who the Reverend Charlton is.”

“What?! My God, Miranda! And you confronted him at the party? Wow, no wonder he stopped persecuting Emily and Serena for being gay. But we all thought, as she does, that he’s simply a retired Anglican vicar!”

“I know, Bobby told me he found Jesus in prison, and turned over a new leaf, but in his case, it would have had to have been a whole damn forest floor, come to that. He apparently married after he was released, and then went off to train to be a priest. He thought I’d shop him, but I rose above his level. But I did urge him to come clean to his daughter, which he obviously hasn’t done yet. And you know, just thinking about him makes me feel sick. It was one of his henchmen who raped me and caused me to have an abortion when I fourteen.”***

“Bloody hell. Do you think he knew at the time, or even remembers?”

“I think he’s conveniently forgotten if he did know. But now do you understand better why I don’t really want to share our wedding with him?” 

“One hundred percent.”

“I sort of had a flashback when I heard from the woman at the Inn all about your shiny new plans. But I’m so sorry I was angry and shouted at you tonight.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you either. Right through your amazingly stressful day.”

“That was my fault. I’m an idiot. I should have remembered to charge my phone.”

“No, that’s my job, part of looking after you. I should have made sure. My fault.”

“Let’s not fall out over who’s most to blame. It was just a sequence of accidents. But it was horrible to see the twins so upset. I hated the way they immediately referenced it back to Stephen.”

“Yes, oh and darling, they told me something very sweet, and very surprising at breakfast this morning, though with everything that’s happened today it feels like a month ago . . . “

“What?”

“While they were at my parents, they did hear about the tabloid and page six gossip about your divorce, from a school friend who texted them. And they think it was their idea to take my parents camping, so they wouldn’t be upset by it all! They said they were so happy you were away in Italy, so you didn’t learn about it either. Aren’t they adorable?”

“Totally. I truly don’t deserve them, or you.”

Miranda snuggled closer to Andy, and then turned her face and kissed her on the lips, firmly and possessively. Having done that, she said, “Now, gorgeous girl, I will tell you what we will do now. We will both go up to bed before mid-night strikes, and we will make very gentle, very restorative love until we go to sleep, (which may only be six minutes, mind). And tomorrow, we will sit down together after breakfast and talk through the wedding problems quietly and constructively. I don’t want to ruin Emily and Serena’s big day any more than I want to ruin ours. We’ll find a middle way.”

“We will. That’s a brilliant scheme darling. Just one thing . . . “

“What?”

“I am going to make up a plate of cheese and crackers for you to have before we begin any love-making. I can tell you haven’t eaten much all day, and your blood sugar spikes make for very dangerous bedfellows.”

Miranda sighed, and smiled ruefully. 

“How well you understand me, as I’ve said so often, more than I do myself.”

“So we’re good?”

“We’re good. Now come with me, sweetie, and I will show you a very good time to make up for my foul temper. Oh and by the way, Geoff and Cindy’s baby is adorable. He made me feel quite broody, even at fifty!”

“Wow. Would you like another child?”

“No, but I’d like to give you one, as soon as you want.”

“Let’s get married first. I’m very conventional like that.”

“OK. Well, what are you waiting for? Are you getting me those crackers and Camembert this year or next?”

“Yes Miranda, I’m getting them now. Let’s go. And in case anyone asks, I love you to the moon and back. O.K.?”

“Ditto.”

And the day ended as sweetly as it had begun, after all.

*As told in ‘Clued UP’  
**As told in ‘The Spirit of Christmas’  
***As told in ‘Miranda’s Enchanted April’


	7. Two conditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is Miranda coming round? Maybe.

The next morning, Andy and Miranda could both feel their twins’ intense scrutiny over the breakfast table, looking for any signs of remaining tension. They both deeply regretted what the youngsters had witnessed the night before and were determined to send them off to school completely reassured about the security of their happy home. 

Normally, they tried not to be too demonstrative towards each other in front of the girls, not overtly sexual at least, but this morning Andy wrapped herself all round Miranda and openly kissed her on the mouth and squeezed her breasts. Miranda responded in kind, and licked her provocatively on the ear, making her squeal. 

Caroline rolled her eyes, and said, “OK. Enough. You don’t have to overdo it you know. We get the message.”

Miranda went a little pink, especially when Cassie added sternly. “How can we grow up normal, when both here and at Dad’s we’re surrounded with all this yucky stuff?”

By ‘yucky stuff’ she supposed her daughter meant sexual banter and overt affection. Poor kids, adults could be so embarrassing at times. But she hoped they’d got the point across that she and Andy were in a permanent loving partnership. She decided to refocus the conversation onto the wedding itself.

“When you come home from school this afternoon, Uncle Nigel will be here to sort out our dresses. Cassie, if you really would prefer pants, I don’t see why we can’t come up with something.”

Caroline was very dubious. “Don’t encourage her, Mom. She’d wear jeans if she could.”

“Then she must take after Andy, who in turn takes after her Momma, who is a wonderful person. No, if Cassie would feel happier, I think it would be fun for Nigel to source a little pants suit. She could look like Gainsborough’s ‘Blue Boy’. It would be adorable.”

Andy guessed Cassie was thinking of a look, more like the Lone Ranger’s, than anything with frills and fancy knee britches, but she admired Miranda for letting her choose. The only trouble was, if as many press pictures emerged from the wedding as Nigel had predicted, every bridesmaid in America would also be turned out in pants suits for the next year. The media would assume Miranda Priestly was out to set a new trend, and slavishly follow her. 

She had a sudden impish idea. “Hey, Miranda, why don’t you wear a pants suit? You never do, and it would look super sexy. You could play the bridegroom in style then.”

“No, I never wear pants except at home and in extremely remote locations where no-one knows me. I have my look, and I like to stay with it.”

“Oh very well. Just suggesting, you know. Bring out your inner butch and all that.”

The last sentence was said sotto voce, as the girls were shrugging on the jackets and collecting their bags. Cara, who was in the kitchen with them, was already preparing to take them to their first classes, and heard it too. 

She had known Miranda for at least ten years and could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she’d ever seen her in pants for a formal occasion. But Andy’s words intrigued her. She’d never considered Miranda as butch before. Her employer was so intensely feminine in many ways, with her make-up, her perfume, her exquisite wardrobe, her nail varnish. 

The subtleties of lesbian relationships went over Cara’s head most of the time, but she was learning, and there was no doubt Miranda was now more ‘out’ than she had ever been. She, like the twins, had noted her fooling around with Andy just now, and could actually visualise them in bed together more easily than before. Andy too, could look quite boyish at times, at other times like a beautiful princess. It was all very bewildering.

She remembered when Andy had had that injury to her skull, how Miranda and she had locked themselves away in their bedroom for hours at a time, and there was the continual sound of whispered laughter and the occasional scream, as she had stoically carried on dealing with the decorators and vacuuming the stair-carpet.*

She missed her soldier husband keenly, but in all their married life, never had she fancied spending four hours in a locked bedroom just having fun with him. Sex with him had never lasted more than ten minutes, ever. Oh well. 

“You ready, kiddoes? Right then, kiss your Mom and let’s go.”

And then Miranda and Andy were left in peace.

They looked at each other across the kitchen table.

“Let’s sit down,” said Miranda, “and you can tell me exactly how we got into this mess and what you and Emily have or haven’t done so far. It’s only been a day. Nothing need be irrevocable, surely.”

Andy pulled over her large white notepad, and clicked open her pen. Miranda was being calm, and co-operative, but she could see she still fully intended they should cancel the joint enterprise. She began cautiously to explain and re-introduce the idea again, in a quiet non-threatening manner. That might work better than flinging it at her suddenly as though it was a done deal.

“Well,” she said, “It all began when I got to Runway on Monday, and purely by chance Emily let slip that they’d booked their wedding for May 15th. It was a horrible shock. She had phoned the Inn and the person who took the call seemed to have got quite the wrong end of the stick, and just thought she was re-confirming our booking. So of course she said everything would be fine for that day. 

“Then Emily and Serena went forging ahead and booked up flights from Brazil, a Samba band, and a spit roast pig BBQ caterer. The Inn had agreed to do all the champagne and canapes, just as they had for us. Why Em and Seri hadn’t taken in the date on our invitations to them remains a mystery though. They were sitting on their mantelpiece as clear as anything. She had ours ready to give me by hand.

“Yes.” said Miranda, ominously quiet. “Well, what happened when you found out the mistake?”

“We were both so shocked, but I had to go try on my dress, while Emily called the Inn to find out if we were really had both booked the same day. And then Nigel made a big joke of it, and said of course we would have to just make it a double wedding. It would save the guests two trips up to the Cape, and everyone could have a . . . really . . .good . . . time . . .”

She looked up into Miranda’s frosty blue eyes with her deep chocolate ones as her confidence seeped away, and her mouth grew dry. Miranda pursed her lips in that ominous way as if she had just sucked on a slice of lemon. 

There was a long pause, then “Hmm. So tell me more. What bright ideas have you come up with so far?”

So far? So good. Andy tip-toed out across the ice. 

“Well, guestrooms won’t be a problem at least. Mel, the really nice inn keeper, not her partner who took the message, has arranged with the Inn next door to accommodate as many again as we booked for. We could also have the reception in stages. Drinks and snacks on arrival and then the first wedding with all the guests seated for that one, while the others who won’t also be at it can move off into the side garden where they won’t disturb too much. 

“That could be at Noon. Then a decent interval for photos and kisses all round etc. Then at two o’clock the second party can have their ceremony. You know, even you wouldn’t want to miss Serena and Emily’s wedding, would you? Around three p.m. we could have the classic English garden party tea you wanted, with fancy little sandwiches and cakes, and the wedding cake, and then much later the pig-roast could be in the evening, about 7.30 onwards. 

“Charles and the girls can play their cello piece twice, in the afternoon and then later, to set the evening off, and then we can move on to the Latin American band for the main evening dancing. Your preferred trad. jazz band can play all afternoon while the tea is served.”

Miranda sat at her kitchen table and played with the frame of her glasses. Her expression was unreadable. Andrea held her breath. Breaking the silence, again, she leaned forward and lightly ran her finger-tip across the top of Miranda’s hand.

“Think about it Miri, it wouldn’t be so bad. You and I could say our vows and share our love surrounded by our families, and the folk from Runway, and the place really is big enough so we won’t be squashed in with all the Brazilians. You know there’s all the beach behind where they will probably want to go anyway. Brazilians have this thing about beaches.”

“Supposing it rains . . . “

“It won’t. I won’t allow it. But the Inn folk say we can have two massive marquees, more than enough for everyone.”

“Well . . . .”

“Oh, and another big plus I just thought of! We might throw the paparazzi off the scent if it’s billed as a double wedding. They won’t expect that.”

“So what does Serena think about all of this?”

“Serena? She was absolutely furious. She kept Emily up all night when she first heard the news, screaming that she wasn’t playing second fiddle to Miranda Priestly, much as she admires you. She seemed to think their wedding would just end up being a little side-show to our main event. 

“But Emily has managed to talk Serena round. She’s made her realise that the main thing of course is that all four of us want to get married, that we each love our partners to the moon and back. And now Serena has agreed to compromise. 

“It also seems her father now wants to pay for the whole thing! He’s one of the richest men in Rio apparently, so isn’t used to sharing, not his daughter, or the costs of her wedding. He wanted them to marry in Brazil, but there it would be even more scandalous, and anyway, illegal of course.” 

Miranda thought long and hard. So Serena’s initial reaction had been just like hers, had it? Well that balanced things a little more evenly. If her fiery beauty editor could compromise, then maybe it was her duty to do so as well. The alternatives would be very painful, and of course everyone in New York would blame her. As long as Andy was happy.

“Darling, do you honestly not mind sharing the day with them? Despite my temper tantrum yesterday, I really only want what will give you joy. I don’t want your one and only wedding day to be spoiled in any way.”

“As long as you are the one I am marrying, I don’t care if the wedding is in a sub-way station, or in the central fish market, surrounded by people selling mackerel. I will only have eyes for you, you know that.”

“In that case, no-one is going to say that Miranda Priestly is an unreasonable woman. Very well. I reluctantly agree, but on two conditions only.”

“What are they?” 

“I want Emily’s father to confess to her all about his past before he steps into my presence on our wedding day. He’s had more than enough time. I know just what sort of life he left behind, and she needs to know the truth. It could affect her safety, and Serena’s, in the future. There used to be contracts out on Trev Charlton and if his face gets in the tabloids, then old associates connected with the Mafia could well spot him and come to settle old scores. She has to persuade him to come to the USA a few days early and bring him to see me again”

“And the second condition?”

“I want you to rearrange the times. I want ours to be the main event, after Emily’s, the final show down the runway if you like. No-one is going to upstage my girl.”

Andy realised Miranda had an unerring grasp of the dramatic potential of building the day up to a natural climax with their wedding. The show-girl in her was coming out. If they were getting married, then it was going to be the Finale, not the first Act.

“Darling Miranda, thank you so much. I am sure we can do it just as you say. Oh Emily will be so relieved, and the people at the Inn. I am too of course. But I realise how painful this has been for you. Thank you, darling, so, so much.”

“Oh go on. Why don’t you make us both a coffee while I call Nigel about Cassie’s wild ideas about her costume? I know I promised her we’d let her wear pants, but I hope he can sort it out.”

So Andy went to make coffee, and while the water boiled, she called Emily and broke the good news that Miranda had come round to their idea having some merit. 

Emily didn’t understand why Miranda needed to see her father, but he would easily agree to come early, she was sure. He was still involved with the weird mother of Kerry, Sal the policewoman’s partner,** he’d met at their Christmas party, and had begun crossing the Atlantic regularly. Serena, too would be grateful, in the end. Their marriage couldn’t come too quickly for her, as her Father was already threatening to send private detectives to vet Emily as suitable wife material for his eldest daughter. 

“Serena laughed at that idea, of course. She knows my Dad is a pillar of the establishment and I was educated in a convent school in Godalming.”

“So was that where you learned to swear like a sailor’s parrot?” asked Andy.

“Too bloody right.”

Andy carried the coffee back to Miranda, who was still on the phone to Nigel. If Serena’s father commissioned a detective to dig up dirt on Emily’s family, then the sooner she knew the truth from him the better. Oh dear. And another thought crossed Andy's mind, weren’t people with a criminal record who had been in gaol longer than a year actually banned from coming into America? So how had Mr Charlton squeezed in before? 

Miranda finished her call.

“Nigel says he will do his best, but that I can forget about The Blue Boy idea. He says Cassie has already been bending his ear. Why do I have to live with three such strong-minded women?”

“I wouldn’t worry about that, darling. More importantly, we mustn’t let Cassie get too close to the pig-roast. If she sees the piggy on the spit, she be horrified, as will my Mom, although I suppose we should be grateful it’s not a fully grown ox. I think we need some strong vegetarian alternatives for the non-meat eaters. Now, what do you think about this news? Serena’s father. .” 

And Andy began to tell Miranda about the fact that she wasn’t the only threat to Mr Charlton’s peace of mind. Then, just as they were relaxing over their drinks, Cara came home from the school run. 

“I forgot to tell you, Andy,” she said, hanging up her jacket. “Yesterday afternoon, when you were out, your sister Hannah called. She says she has brilliant news, but there is some problem about a green card or something, and can you call her back? She’s in Tokyo, so it will be late evening there now, but you had better do it. She said it was urgent. I’m sorry. I should have left you a note.”

“Oh heck,” thought Andy, “I do hope she and Harry can still come to the wedding!” And she went to a quiet room to make the call. Of all her siblings she was closest in age and friendship to Hannah, and her wedding would be quite spoiled if she couldn’t be there. Was this going to be something else to worry about? 

*As told in ‘A Bang on the Head’.  
** As told in ‘The Spirit of Christmas.’


	8. Sisterly affection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't expect their wedding troubles to be settled that easily, did you? Andy makes a phone-call to Tokyo and gets another bombshell dropped on her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A second little bonus read for today. Well, I've written it, so it seemed mean not to let you read it. Now I am off to have some afternoon tea!

Andy went through into Miranda’s study and closed the door. Sometimes the satellite link to Tokyo was less than clear and the kitchen and family room weren’t always quiet enough to catch what Hannah was saying. She looked round at the scene of their great debacle the night before and was at least relieved to see no trace of the spilt Scots whiskey on the blue carpet. 

Poor Miranda, she had relinquished her rightful place as chief decision maker so graciously in the end. Andy was determined to make it up to her with a really special present. But for now she had to find out what Hannah needed to say. 

She did a little sum in her head. Tokyo was thirteen hours ahead of New York, so if it was 9.30 in Manhattan, it would be 10.30 the same evening there. Not too late. She brought up Hannah’s cell phone number and pressed the call button. 

When Hannah answered, there was obvious relief in her voice, and a slight tremor of excitement. The sisters could read each other so well, even though they hadn’t shared a bedroom for eight years, and now were barely able to meet more than twice a year. 

Andy said the obvious, “You called yesterday. Sorry I was out.” Then, “Is everything all right? You and Harry can still come to our wedding, can’t you?”

Hannah replied, “Yes, but Andy, so much has happened. I have to bring you up to speed.”

Andy’s head went all over the place. What had happened? Was Hannah pregnant with twins? Huh?  
“What’s new then?”

“I’ve got a new job! With the U.N.! So we’ll be moving back to New York! I start in two months.”

“Fantastic! Tell me more.”

“It’s with the USA East Asia desk at UN Headquarters. I’ll be in the Japanese section. A colleague heard about the opening, and I put in for it without any real hope. I expected to get a level entry post at best, but they have had a big staff turnover recently, and they want me to be the deputy head of the section!”

“Well done. Of course the whole family knows you are brilliant. But that’s fantastic news. And Harry? What’s he doing right now? Of course he’ll come with you, I expect?”

“He’s been amusing himself teaching English as a foreign language, and playing the flute in an Irish pub here. But he’s going to come over with me, and then I am hoping he will remember he has some brains and go back into pure Math Research. You know he had a fellowship offered at Cornell three years ago, which he never took up. I think he’s ready to settle down. We both are.”

“Hannah, we are so happy for the two of you, and Miranda will adore having her nephew close by. I can see a lot of spoiling of you both on the cards. She’ll be excited when I tell her, and the twins will of course as well. They adore their Uncle Harry. It’s so great that both our families are gathering round. Mum and Dad will be so happy!”

“Yes, but there is one big thing we have to do first, which is why I wanted to ask you a huge favor.”

“Yes, what?”

“So he can stay in the States as my partner, and not just on a tourist visa, Harry and I need to get married before June, when my job starts. We wondered, and I know it is rather a cheek, but do you think you and Miranda would mind? Can we share your wedding day and get married with you, on the same day up in New England? “

Andy gave a strangled gasp, which Hannah didn’t even notice.

“You see, I’ve been thinking. Mom, Dad, Momma and all our extended Sachs family, as well as Charles, Miranda and the Priestlys will be there ready and waiting, and Dad will even have his grey tailcoat and top hat organised. Of course we will pay for more than our share of the costs. This tech firm pays me a fortune . . . I’ve made enquiries, and if we register our intention to marry by the end of tomorrow, we will be in time. What do you say?”

Andy went a little pale. She had learned her lesson, and there was no way she was going to pre-judge Miranda’s reaction, or make any further promises without asking her first. The actual logistics of yet another wedding on that crowded Saturday seemed virtually impossible anyway!

“Sis, it’s a lovely idea, but . . . “

“Oh, fantastic! I knew you’d agree . . .”

“No! No! Hold on here a cotton-pickin’ minute. I can’t! I mean, I can’t agree to anything without talking this over with Miranda. And also, we have already had one other wedding bounced in on top of us that day. I can’t explain why right now, but Emily and Serena are joining us for their marriage ceremony. It’s getting almost impossible as it is . . . “

“Oh.” Hannah sounded horribly flat and deflated. “Yes, I see. Oh well . . . it was just an idea. We can get married here of course, but no-one we love will be with us, and I so wanted you to be my bridesmaid or matron of honour or whatever it’s called. It wouldn’t be the same if you, Mom and Dad weren’t there. And Harry will die if his lovely aunt and cousins can’t be present as well.”

Hannah always could persuade Andy to follow her and help her with her schemes when they were little. The old magic was starting to work again.

“Look, Han, I’m not saying No definitely, just don’t get your hopes up. Let me go and talk to Miranda, and we’ll get back to you.”

“When? We need to decide and make plans really quickly now.”

“I will call you tonight, 7 pm my time. That will be eight tomorrow for you in Tokyo, and we’ll see if there is a way to make it happen. OK?”

“Great! I know you will find a way. Miranda is bound to sort it. There’s nothing that woman can’t do, is there?”

“Hmm, she’s only human. But at least I promise we will try our best. If you do go ahead, will you be wanting to bring any more guests from Australia or Japan?”

“Oh, no more than a few, I shouldn’t think. It’s such short notice anyway. I haven’t really discussed that with Harry yet. But I’m sure we can find room for them in other places, if your venue is fully booked.”

Andy ended their talk and flicked off her phone. She ran out of the room, calling,

“Miranda, where are you? We need to talk . . “

And she tried, without success, to flatten the slight tinge of hysteria in her voice, as she ran.


	9. Go with the Flow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nigel and Miranda enjoy a quiet conversation. Andy decides to book Tilly in for dog-training classes.

Miranda, when Andy told her about Hannah’s bombshell request, felt tempted to metaphorically toss her racquet down on the tennis court like John McEnroe and shout “You cannot be serious!”

Then to Andy’s astonishment, she began to laugh. 

“What so funny?”

“Instant Karma, that’s what. Honey, don’t you see? The gods are punishing me for refusing to have one other couple share our day, by sending another through almost on the same hour. You’ve got to see the funny side of it. I am definitely being punished for past crimes here.”

“What should I do? What shall we say? We can’t possibly fit them in.”

Miranda was busy trying to brush Matilda’s fur with a little dog brush. Even though she was still a puppy, her white fuzzy hair was already getting the Bichon Frise look of astonished frizzle, and it appealed to Miranda’s hair-dressing yearnings. She was even tempted to tie a little blue ribbon in their puppy’s locks to keep them out of her eyes, but she guessed Andy would pull it out at once if she did. 

She pondered the bigger problem for a long minute, then said, “Tell you what. Text Hannah back and say I expect Harry to do the decent thing and ask me, properly, if he can bring his lovely bride and share our festivities. It’s something he really should take responsibility for. Why should you and Hannah have to do all the wheedling and negotiations? He needs to call me, and then we will decide.” 

“But you’re not dismissing it out of hand? I just assumed it would be one wedding too far.”

“We are living in strange times, darling. You know how I felt a little bewitched all the time we were in Italy?* Well I think the craziness is continuing. We just have to go with the flow! Now, don’t you think Tilly would look sweet wearing a little blue bow?”

“Only if you want her to be laughed at by every other dog in Central Park. Have a heart, Miranda!” 

Andy pulled out her phone and texted the message right back. Miranda marvelled at how quickly her thumbs flew over the keys. The generation gap between them had never seemed so wide. 

Andy, on the other hand, was mentally storing up that magical moment when Miranda had said, “We just have to go with the flow!” It was proof that her fiancée was living in a zone far removed from her public image at Runway. 

But then she remembered how Miranda had acted instinctively when she’d called her back that fateful day they’d first met at Runway, when she had first passionately kissed her in the thunderstorm, when she’d suddenly decided to take a year’s sabbatical, and when she’d decided they should buy the beach cottage. **

Miranda had far more natural instinct and spontaneity, as well as a huge capacity for love, than anyone had ever given her credit for. She may have sometimes fussed about the placement of a single sequin, but she also knew how to make trousers for elephants, and how to make love like an angel. She was a goddess in human form.

Several other interesting things happened later that day. Nigel, with a couple of wide-eyed Runway interns in tow to carry everything, arrived at the house after lunch, with several pattern books and a selection of beautiful fabrics, and spread them all out on the long table in the formal dining room. He and Miranda closed the door behind them and went into deep and obviously confidential discussions.

Andy took the now immaculately brushed Tilly on a mile or so walk to meet the twins as they came out of school and accompany them home. As she walked, it amused her to imagine, if the girls’ fantasy about residing in her parents’ old trailer had come true, how this little canine ball of Manhattan charm would have had to fit in with her Dad’s posse of flat-coated retrievers out in Ohio. Her fancy hair-do wouldn’t have lasted five minutes, and they would have bullied her unmercifully. 

Or then, maybe not. Pumpkin, her ginger cat, now seven months old, was no slouch when it came to fisticuffs, but he’d very soon learned not to mess with Matilda. They now shared a basket and were best mates. She was very friendly yet scared of nothing. Somewhere way back in her doggy ancestry, Andy guessed there must have been a really tough little rat-catcher. 

At any rate Tilly fairly galloped down the street now, ignoring all the instructions to heel. They all seemed as bad at dog-training with her, as Miranda had been with Patricia. Andy decided something had to be done about that, or the pup could get herself into serious danger.

After Andy had left the house, Miranda told the Runway girls to “run along and read something”, and loftily dismissed them from the dining room. She needed Nigel to herself. They sat down together at the long table and first dealt with the twins’ outfits. She was delighted that, as usual, his impeccable eye had found a solution for Cassie’s wish to wear something with two legs instead of a satin dress. 

“I’m afraid your notion of dressing her up like that painting in the Huntingdon Gallery won’t get you very far, darling. Cassie told me she wants to look cool, and I don’t think by that she means resembling a principle boy in an operetta.”  
He then pulled out a watercolour sketch of a young girl dressed in an informal pair of light blue chinos, but topped with a silky white shirt, and then an extravagant jacket in fine denim encrusted with sparkling sequins and a heap of coloured crystals and rhinestones. It reminded Miranda of the pearly kings and queens of her East End London childhood, but against a blue background. It was fun. It was festive, and it was youthful. And it would suit Cassie, with her merry curls and droll expression.

“I like it. It’s such fun. And I think she will too. She’s obsessed with cowboys just now.”

“Then she’ll also like these rhinestone encrusted cowboy boots, I’ve looked out to go with it.” He produced a pair of little white boots in Cassie’s size.

“This is a sketch. Do we know where we can get the jacket, in a size small enough for her to wear, in the next two weeks?”  
“Yes. I’ve contacted the designer. They can start work tomorrow.”

Nigel named a fresh young designer Miranda had already championed in a recent edition of Runway.”

“I didn’t know she did anything for children.”

“She didn’t but she will from now on. She’s very keen!”

They then turned their attention to Caroline, and this project was easier. She had sent Nigel sketches herself of what she wanted to wear, just as she had for Cindy and her father’s wedding, and he already had a dress half made up for her to try. It was very simple, but very beautiful in ice blue.

“Will this complement Andy’s wedding gown?” asked Miranda.

“Absolutely. You will have three adorable people at your side. But the big question, sweetie, is whether you will approve of my choice for you.” Nigel pulled over a garment bag and revealed a truly gorgeous blue silk creation from Vera Wang, a designer he knew Miranda already favoured for her attention to detail. 

“Do you want to try it on? I think you should.”

“I’ll take it up to my room, now, before the children return. “ Miranda normally didn’t hesitate to strip down to her knickers in front of Nigel, her long-time confidante and gay guy supreme, but undressing in her own dining room seemed a bit odd. “I’ll be back in a minute. Why don’t you find your interns and show them my albums of Ives Saint Laurent originals? It will help their education.” 

Miranda tried on the dress in front of her dressing room mirror, turning to catch the side and then the back view. It was gorgeous, and fitted her perfectly thank God. (She didn’t know that Nigel, on hearing all about her gelato eating frenzy in Florence from Andy, had secretly ordered it be let out an inch or so in some key areas.) It was lovely, and she would love wearing it. He had more than fulfilled his mission.

But when she had changed back into her normal straight skirt and blouse daywear, she walked thoughtfully down the stairs and handed it to him with a quizzical, slightly tentative air.

“Yes, don’t you like it?” he asked, alarmed at the subtle hesitation in her eyes. 

“Oh, it is magnificent. I will love to have it in my wardrobe, and I’m so happy I haven’t expanded my waistline in Italy. I was a little worried, you know, about that.” 

Miranda fiddled with the glasses she tended to wear hanging round her neck these days, and then said, “But I need your opinion. What do you think? Be honest now. Andy said I’d look good in pants for the wedding. She mentioned it might bring out my inner butch! But then what does she understand? We both know my darling has zero sense of style. I just wondered . . .”

Nigel followed where she was leading. “Darling, you would look divine. A touch of the androgyny, and every woman and man at the wedding will want to fall at your feet. How about going the whole hog and give them a full Colette-Missy look? Black tails, gleaming white shirt, a sexy waistcoat, topped with white-gold or platinum ear-rings and cuff-links, and then black Cuban heeled boots. It will be unexpected, and ridiculously sexy. Let’s do it!”

“I’m not sure. Andy’s father will be embarrassed enough, giving his beautiful daughter away to an old lesbian wearing a frock. Won’t this just intensify the incongruity? I don’t normally even dress in pants.”

“Of course not, but that what makes it so much more fun. And just think, you will also be keeping Cass company! It will be a wedding where everyone will be allowed to be exactly who they really are. I will be your campy best man. Hey I can wear the dress if you like! Go for it, girl! This wedding is going to be a blast.”

“I expect so. It’s certainly heading that way. Oh, and by the way,” Miranda remembered. “Before I forget, Nigel, I could box your ears for encouraging Emily and Andy to come up with the notion of a double wedding. It seems that was your bright idea in the first place!”

“Yes, brilliant, wasn’t it? And I am so happy you’ve agreed with it. Keeping Douglas happy up on that wind-swept coast two weekends in a row would have exhausted all my powers to entertain!”

“Don’t laugh too soon. You opened the flood-gates you know. We now may have a third wedding added to the list. My nephew Harry, and Andy’s sister Hannah may well be joining us, along with busloads of assorted Japanese and Australian extras on set.”

“No!”

“Yes. I just want him to grovel a bit first. But I will agree. I already love him dearly, and Hannah is a poppet. His Uncle Charles will be there with us, and Harry no longer has anyone else it seems. He’s lost his father, my brother, and his mother as well when he was a child, so Charles and I are his only close and nearest relatives.”

“You will end up like Mother Courage if you’re not careful.”

“No, more like Old Mother McGinty!”

“Never! But, are we going with Plan B, then?”

“Yes, organise me a really well-cut, feminine but sharp looking tail coat and grey striped trousers and I will fulfil one of Andy’s obvious fantasies. I can read my darling girl like a book. She wouldn’t have mentioned it if she hadn’t already dreamed of dressing me up like that at some point.”

“You’re on, my friend.” 

“Just be sure and make those boots with nice high heels and the trouser length to match. Otherwise Andy will tower over me, and I can’t have that.”

“Your wish is my command. This is so exciting!”

Then they heard a commotion downstairs as the street door opened and the girls, Andy and Matilda poured in. Miranda went to the door and called out, “Come straight up, girls, your Uncle Nigel has some ideas to show you!”

“Not a word to them or Andy about my outfit though,” she whispered to Nigel, and he smiled and put his finger to his lips.”

“Sealed.” He said. “It will be our secret.” But he was quietly thrilled. He knew he could make Miranda look a million dollars, and the New York fashion scene would go wild. He already knew what he was going to feature for the cover of the July edition of Runway. If he had everyone primed, they might just make the print run in time. This was going to be the wedding of the year! That would beat the tabloids at their own game!

*As told in ‘Miranda’s Enchanted April’.  
**As told in ‘Cuffed’, ‘Clued Up’, and ‘Telling’.


	10. Blown in on a Westerly wind.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andy and Miranda start to write their vows, when the door bell rings. Old friends surprise them, in more ways than one.

Harry phoned from Japan on the dot of 6pm, and did as he’d been told, showering his Auntie with love and compliments as he did so. It had the desired effect, although Miranda pretended to be still weighing up her answer until the very end of the conversation. 

“We’ll have to consult Emily and Serena of course,” she said, “and you must do all the negotiating with the Inn keepers, and deal with the paperwork up in Provincetown. But I am sure you and Hannah between you are more than capable. We could probably fit you in at 11 am, if the Registrar can get there earlier.”

“Miranda, we will love you for ever. Hannah was genuinely distraught last night when it sounded as though we couldn’t join in and get married as well on your day. Don’t worry about any extra work. We’ll fly home early and sort everything out. Hannah will call her Mom right now.”

“Yes, and her father. Poor Richard will have a stressful day parting with his two youngest daughters both at once. But I’m sure they will be delighted to know you are coming back to the States to live. Andy and I are certainly. We must start looking out an apartment for you here in New York.”

So things settled down in the new reality. The following evening Miranda received a call from her Italian friend Sophia, who surprised her by saying she had brought her mother back to the States to live with her and her family in Queens. *

“She’s a new woman, Miranda, you wouldn’t recognise her now! And it was all down to you. I’ll never thank you enough for insisting I go to visit her in Perugia. The doctors here say they are sure it wasn’t the pneumonia which nearly killed her, but the sadness of being so lonely. My kids are already getting to know her and love having their Nonna with them.”

“What about Spiv? What does he think?”

“Oh, he is happy. She knows how to charm her son-in-law. Anyway they don’t see a lot of each other. He is out most of the time in the restaurant.”

“Any chance of you making it to our wedding?”

“My friend, I think of nothing else. Spiv won’t be able to get away, but would you mind if I brought Mama instead? We’ve never been to a gay wedding. I told her about you and Andy, and she says she wants to see such a thing before she dies! Oh, and you know you met my cousin’s son in Assisi?”

“Yes, the helpful young man who guided us round the basilicas.” **

“Well, he had the cheek to apply to Versace on the back of your afternoon with him, and mentioned you, and they are offering him an interview to be taken on as an intern for the summer before he goes off to fashion college. He is ecstatic!”

“Good. Maybe he’ll be a name to follow in the future. He was certainly enthusiastic about fashion.”

Andy and Miranda were able to ease back into normal home life after the first tumultuous few days which had just passed, and for the rest of the week, everything seemed calm. Andrea though was hatching a secret plot to surprise Miranda with a wedding night to remember. 

She decided they should just escape somewhere completely quiet, and negotiated with Geoff and Cindy that they would take the twins home with them after the wedding reception and let them get to know their little brother. Cindy said they were going to call him Spencer, after her grandfather, and Edgar, after Geoff’s father. She had begun to heal and feel less sore, and said all was well up in Boston. Of course they’d love to have the girls for the weekend. They were expecting to do it, anyway. 

Andrea then began researching forest lodges up north of Cape Cod, and found a wonderful spot two hours’ drive away. It was a guest lodge, high up in the hills towards Maine, with spectacular views, and individual chalets, all luxuriously appointed, with their own hot-tubs and saunas. It was also at the end of a long private road, so their privacy would be assured. After watching a promotional video, and talking at length to the owner-manager, she booked them both in for Saturday and Sunday nights. But she didn’t want any more misunderstandings or mess-ups, so she told Miranda,

“I’m keeping it a secret where we’re going, but I’ve sorted something for us as a mini-honeymoon after our wedding day. So don’t you go and do the same!”

Miranda, whose mind had in fact been travelling in exactly the same direction, nodded, and said, “I’m intrigued. No clues then?”

“No, except you won’t need your Jimmy Choos.”

“Oh God, I knew it. We’ll be hiking the Appalachian Trail!”

“Not quite, don’t worry. But I’m telling you nothing more. It’s my treat, and I think you’ll be happy.”

Miranda pulled her close and lightly kissed Andy’s nose. “Even if we share a pup tent on the wet grass I’ll be happy. In fact you had better bring a strong rope to tie me down to earth. If you are crazy enough to say “I do” to me I’ll be so happy I’ll be floating off the ground by at least twenty feet.”

This little thought reminded Andy. “Oh yes, that’s another big job for our list. We said we’d write each other’s vows, didn’t we?”

“I thought we were joking.”

“Yes we were, but wouldn’t it be a lovely thing to do? Let’s do it, tomorrow.”

“Yes, tomorrow. Tonight I want to enjoy making love to my mistress before she settles down and becomes my wife.”

“Oh do you? And what if your mistress isn’t in the mood tonight?”

“Then I will woo her with kisses sweeter than wine.”

“Will you? And if that doesn’t work?”

“Then I will tickle her until she submits.”

Andrea held up her head in the way Miranda found irresistible, and gave a little grin.

“O.K. I give in. But no tickling, I beg you, please.”

And they went up to bed, with one aim in mind, and it wasn’t to fall straight to sleep. 

It was the following morning when they were both sucking their pencils, so to speak, and working on the perfect wedding vows they’d like each other to make. Suddenly the front door-bell rang, and they heard Cara go down to answer it. Andy’s ears pricked up, as she heard the immediate sound of strong women’s laughter, and Lee’s unmistakable Californian accent ring out.

Both she and Miranda stood up and went to meet their surprise visitors. Lee and Gloria, Miranda’s oldest American friends, stood on the doorstep, large as life and characteristically cheerful. Each carried a large flat parcel. 

“Well, look what the westerlies have blown in! Come on in! Wonderful to see you both, but why didn’t you call to warn us. We could have been out!”

“Then it wouldn’t have been a surprise. And this is kind of spontaneous. We are going up to Maine for two weeks before your wedding, and wanted to bring you these, before you start getting inundated with wedding gifts and a houseful of visitors.”

They put down what were obviously heavy packages on the hall carpet. Gloria, who was a very handsome woman in her late sixties, came forward with her shock of dark grey curly hair and kissed Miranda warmly. 

Andy was suddenly struck with acute shyness, and a horrible stab of jealousy, as she remembered Miranda’s confession in Italy, that she and Gloria had been lovers for the first three years she had lived in New York back in the 1970s. But then Gloria turned to her as well, and swept her up into such a strong bear-hug it was hard to resist. Her head, if not her heart, told her she and Miranda were now simply good friends.

Lee, Gloria’s rather older partner, put her cane to one side so she also could hug them both. She held Andrea’s chin for a moment, and turned her face to the light. “Good. I think I caught that wonderful profile O.K. How are you bearing up sweetie? Not too exhausted looking after our Miranda yet?”

“Stop tempting her to have second thoughts, Lee!” said Miranda sternly. “We were actually writing our wedding vows when you arrived. Come through to the kitchen and have a coffee. You must be exhausted flying in from LA. Do you want to stay here for a few days before going north?”

“No, darling. We actually arrived last night and booked into a hotel out by the airport. But we can stay for lunch, or take you both out if you like.”

Cara had already made a fresh pot of coffee and was laying out cups. They all sat round the kitchen table and enjoyed the brew. It was five months since they had last met, and Miranda noticed that Lee was still having real trouble with her hip.

“Haven’t you booked in for an operation to replace it yet, like you promised? Andy’s Momma was brave and went through with it, and now she’s walking without pain. She’s the same age as you.”

“I keep telling her”, said Gloria. “She’s just in a funk about it. But it’s getting seriously annoying now. We have a boat moored at Newport Beach marina, and Lee used to love skippering it out to Catalina and back, but she can’t even get aboard any longer.” 

“I know! I know! Stop bullying me. It’s not the hip that’s the main problem though. The arthritis has got into my hands, and I can’t move my fingers like I used to do, so my painting is getting frustratingly bad. I shall end up like Renoir if I’m not careful. He was so crippled with arthritis in his last years he could scarcely hold a brush.”

Lee, as Andy knew, was one of the best-respected artists on the West Coast. 

“Are those packages, what I think they might be?” she asked. “Have you finished my portrait?”

“I have, honey. I’m sorry it has taken so long, but I’ve done a little something extra for you both as well. Would you like to see?”

“Oh yes! Of course. Shall I fetch them?”

The older women both nodded, and Andy went back to the hall to bring the parcels in. After finding a pair of skissors and much tearing of brown paper and tapes, then carefully unwrapping the inner protection of corrugated paper, Andy and Gloria between them revealed the first picture, and stood it up facing the window. 

It was based on the portfolio of photos which Lee had taken while they were in California in January. *** But she had worked her magic on the digital imagery and created a luminous portrait which somehow changed its expression and the look in the sitter’s eyes as the light fell onto it from different angles. Even Andy could see that it made her look almost ethereal, not a straightforward girl from Ohio at all, but some sort of elusive spirit.

It might not be how she saw herself, but it went much deeper, also making her much more beautiful than she would have given herself credit for. It also conveyed a sense of feminine power. 

She was very grateful that Lee hadn’t used the full body naked shots. This was a head and shoulders portrait, with the gentle five months’ worth of her hair’s re-growth from the previous September’s total loss, now turning in to a curly bob, tucked back behind her ears. 

“Oh”, she breathed. “Can that be me? It’s wonderful!”

She turned to Miranda, who was staring at the portrait with wide eyes, almost navy-blue in their intensity. She didn’t need to ask what she thought. The woman looked hypnotised. 

Then she said, “Oh Lee, thank you so much. It’s Andrea, completely and transformatively. It’s how she speaks to my heart. Only you could have captured her spirit so perfectly. You are a genius. This will go straight over the fireplace in our main room.”

Gloria beamed, as proud as she always was of her life-partner and lover’s skill as a portraitist. “But wait until you see our second gift to you. This is for your wedding present! Here!” And she began to undo the wrapping on the second painting. 

When it emerged, both Miranda and Andy gasped with delighted surprise. It was a life-size portrait of them together. Miranda had her arms round Andy from behind and was kissing her ear. It was intimate, gentle and loving, but had their likenesses to a tee. Andy was looking sideways up at Miranda adoringly, and they were obviously lost in their own little world.

The colours of misty pinks and pale blues of the background also complemented the tones in the first portrait, and the two pieces were framed as a pair. They could hang next to each other in perfect harmony.

“Well. I’m speechless. How did you get this so perfect? We never sat for you together,” said Miranda.

Lee replied, smiling,” I took some pictures at your birthday party, while we were sitting at the table with Amelia. Andy was just wishing you Happy Birthday, before you cut the cake.”

Andy was amused to hear Momma called Amelia, almost for the first time in her life, but she knew she, Lee and Gloria had become friends at the birthday party, and they had invited her to stay with them up in their Maine house by the sea after the wedding. For a woman who had barely left Ohio in eighty-four years, it would be quite an excitement. 

“It tells the viewer something very important,” Andy said, considering the painting. “That Miranda and I love each other. Anyone looking at it could be in no doubt. It’s the perfect wedding present. Thank you Lee, so much!” 

“My complete pleasure, honey. I am proud of these portraits. I think they are the best I’ve done in several years. And I was egotistical enough to want to bring them to you myself, to see your reaction.” 

The paintings were then taken up to the big drawing room on the second floor, and placed close to where they would be professionally hung. Miranda had seen how painful Lee found it to walk, so suggested she send out for lunch from her favorite restaurant which they could enjoy quietly at home, and in the end that is what they did. 

Gloria began to tell Andy stories about Miranda as a young woman, and her curiosity to find out every possible snippet of information about her beloved, overcame her jealousy about how Gloria had got to know her so well. They all chatted happily for an hour or more after lunch, then the Californian ladies said they really should be leaving. They were half way out of the door, when Miranda suddenly remembered. 

“Oh Gloria dear, in Rome and again in Venice, we met up with an old friend of yours.”

“Who could that be?” Gloria looked a little non-plussed.

“She said you went back a long way. She was a musicologist, from Ireland.”

“Sorry, it doesn’t ring any bells.”

Miranda turned to Andy. “What was her name, the person who was researching Monteverdi?”

“Maggie McIntyre.”

“Yes, that was it! Maggie McIntyre.”

Gloria looked dumb-founded. “But that’s quite impossible!”

“Why?”

“It just is. Maggie McIntyre disappeared from my life a long time ago.”

“Well this person was very much in the present. She knew us both as well and seemed to recognise us. I assumed you must have told her all about Andy and me”.

“No, Miranda, darling. When I said Maggie disappeared, I meant it. You see I killed her off.”

“What?! I don’t understand! You can’t tell me that you killed someone without explaining.” 

Gloria rolled her eyes in bewildered frustration. 

“Well, I invented her in the first place, and then I killed her off.”

“Huh?”

“Maggie was just a creation of my own imagination. When I was younger I tried my hand at novel writing, and made up this character, an academic who liked to travel, and who solved mysteries. She was Irish, yes?”

“Yeah . . . yes, but?”

“Well, the books sold, but not very well, and in the end I gave up and concentrated on journalism. Maggie existed no-where but inside my head. I named her after Maggie Tulliver, the girl from the ‘Mill on the Floss’ by George Eliot. I’d loved the book as a girl. ”

“But this is crazy. We both met her!” Andy chipped in. “She wrote us a note to our hotel. She gave us a flyer for an actual concert. She showed us round a church in Venice!”

“Then it must have been someone who read my story fifteen years ago, and was pretending to be my old character. Whatever explanation can there be?”

“Well, none, I suppose.” Miranda clung to her own front door to retain a sense of reality. 

“And she gave you no hint of where she lived, no phone number?”

“No.”

“Well I think you were simply the victims of a prank. When I get home, I’ll send you a copy of one of the Maggie McIntyre novels I wrote. Then you will see I’m telling the truth.”

“Darling Gloria, I don’t doubt what you say for a moment. But it is so mysterious.”

“Just someone’s idea of a joke. I wouldn’t worry. Let’s discuss this again some time if you like, but for now, we all have lots more immediate things to concern us. Au revoir, both of you! We’ll see you at the wedding!”

Lee was already getting into the taxi they’d booked, so Gloria had to leave without further ado.

“Goodbye, and thank you again for the lovely paintings. Andy and I are going to treasure them for ever!”

When the ladies had left, Miranda and Andy gasped at each other and exchanged looks of complete puzzlement. 

“Curiouser and Curiouser,” quoted Andy from ‘Alice in Wonderland.’

“Ditto”, murmured Miranda, quoting from ‘Alice through the Looking Glass’.  
Then she shook her head. “Maybe Gloria’s right, telling us not to worry. Let’s concentrate on something we can understand. I have decided what I want you to promise me in our vows, and I want to write it down before I forget!”

But Gloria’s weird explanation had quietly really shaken them both. If fictional characters could somehow turn into real people, what did that say about the meaning of existence? And who was the woman they had met in Italy, if not Gloria’s invented sleuth? It was all very odd, very odd indeed, and it would need sorting out, but maybe not right now.

*As told in 'Who do you think you are?'  
** As told in 'Miranda's enchanted April'  
*** As told in 'Miranda's Birthday.'


	11. Genes Reunited?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uncle Charles arrived, with some surprising news.

The days were ticking away too fast for their comfort but the last days of breezy April had tipped over into a benign and balmy May. It was indeed becoming the beautifully scented lilac-time which Andy had wanted for her wedding. 

Nigel reassured Miranda that all the wedding clothes, including her little surprise for Andy were virtually ready. They had decided that she should wear the blue silk gown right through the morning to the two preceding weddings, and then go backstage to do a secret change just before her own nuptials. It would be a cute little tease, and Miranda was up for anything which would catch Andy on the back foot and bring a lovely blush of surprise to her face. 

It was a face she adored more every time she saw it, and her nerves and fears that something dreadful would happen to prevent their marriage were finally subsiding. Following her children’s demands, there had been no more recourse to the contents of the whiskey bottle on the top shelf, and Miranda was slowly beginning to relax. Well, just a bit, anyway.

Then her dearest, and as far as she knew, her only brother Charles rolled into town, flying all the way from Melbourne via Los Angeles with his precious cello on its own seat next to him. He was early for the wedding, but she was delighted to see him, along with his music buddy George, and happily accommodated them both in the top floor guest-rooms of the town-house. They had so many lost years to catch up on, and delighted in each other’s company.

Charles and George were booked to give some master-classes for the final year students at the Juilliard School, so they would be busy for several days. But at their first family dinner together, Charles casually dropped a bomb-shell which would affect everyone present, including his adoring ten year old nieces.

“Miri, you know we did those DNA tests back in February, to confirm we are siblings”.

“Hmm-hmm.” She was tucking into her steak and determined not to speak with her mouth full.

“Well, on the back of that, I found a website which traces all registered relatives a person might have with the same DNA, and guess what, I’ve found us a heap of first cousins!”

Miranda swallowed, took a sip of water, and then her eyes opened wide with astonishment. She said, “Never! Who can they be? Oh wait, could they be our mother’s older brothers’ offspring? The ones who emigrated to Australia back just after World War Two?”

“Yes, I think so. But listen to this, Miri, two of our uncles definitely went to Australia, and lived in the Melbourne area, less than fifty miles from I was brought up! But one joined the navy, went round the world and ended up not in Australia, but settling here in America!”

“Never! “ At this point Andrea was getting excited, and joined the conversation. “This is like a novel! Do you know anything about the American cousins, where they are?”

“Yes, the family history site I used located their birth certificates, and I have to tell you they are a big family! One of them has already started researching their ancestors from their end, and just this week, she answered a posting I made, trying to trace them.”

“A woman? Where?”

“She and her family live in Boston. In fact all her eight brothers and sisters were born in the Boston area, and are still there! They have all married and have children and even some grandchildren of their own. Their father was Mick McCarthy, born in Lewisham, London in 1932, definitely our mother’s older brother.”

“Was?”

“Yes, he died five years ago, but his widow is alive and well.”

Miranda was stunned into silence. From believing all these years that she was alone in the world, that no living soul could be related to her, she now realised she might have a bigger tribe of extended family members than Andrea did, or her ex-husband Geoff. 

But she remembered how rough her grandmother had been. Maybe her sons were equally churlish and these new cousins might just be brutes, or even criminals, not the sort of characters she wanted hanging round, or influencing her children. 

“So, what else have you found out? Do we know what sort of people they are? Would we want to get to know them?”

Charles laughed at his sister’s veiled snobbery, but he understood her caution. 

“I’ve only been in email correspondence so far, with this one cousin, Evelyn. But she sounds nice, and is very keen to meet us.”

“You told her about me?”

“Only in the vaguest terms, no details. But here’s the thing, she told me she has twins, as have two of her brothers. I told her I’m a twin, and my sister has twin daughters, that’s all I said. But isn’t that crazy? Obviously there is a very strong twin gene running through our family!”

Miranda suddenly had a horrible feeling, not that she wouldn’t like the cousins, but that they might all be homophobic and despise and reject her for being gay. She wouldn’t let them near her girls or Andy if they were. But it was not something she wanted to discuss in front of the children. 

“Let’s chat about this later,” she said, indicating the presence of little pitchers with big ears, so they all finished their steak supper in thoughtful silence.

Then Andy jumped up and fetched the dessert she’d made. It was rhubarb crumble, from an old recipe from her Scottish grandmother on her father’s side, and quite exotic for New York, where rhubarb in the spring was considered a real delicacy. 

“Yummy yummy!” announced Caroline, as she put her spoon into the crunchy topping. “This is good. Will you teach us how to make it, Andy?” 

“Of course I will. Here, have some pouring custard with it.” 

And she beamed at Miranda. “You too, darling? Or would you prefer ice-cream?”

Only Miranda picked up the wicked allusion to some recent bedroom antics they’d enjoyed, involving vanilla ice-cream.

“You know what I’d like, darling,” she said, with a perfectly straight face. “But some custard as well would be nice. Thank you.”

“Where did you learn to do this, Andy?” asked Cassie.

“Oh I inherited it. It’s a family recipe.”

“I didn’t know you can inherit recipes,” mused Caroline. “Is it like red-hair?”

“What recipes have you inherited, Mommy?” chipped in Cassie. And she looked so intensely interested that Miranda felt she should come up with something immediately.

“Roasted apples, like we had at Thanksgiving!” she answered. “I inherited them from the orphanage.”*

“Oh, yes, of course.” But Cassie was obviously puzzled, though she was too sensitive to her mother’s feelings to follow up the question. Miranda’s early years for the most part still remained a mystery. 

When the twins had gone upstairs to bed, Miranda quizzed Charles in more depth about his recent research.

“Have you told Harry?” was one question she asked and Charles replied that yes, he had, and their nephew was very enthusiastic about following up the trail with him.

“He and Hannah say they are coming to New York in the next couple of days, and suggests he and I go up to Boston together, to look up all these McCarthys. That will save you any possible embarrassment. We can do an initial reconnaissance mission.”

“Thank you darling. That will be a great idea.”

Miranda was relieved. Being even a small-scale celebrity had its problems sometimes, although she didn’t think her notoriety in the fashion world was anything like the international fame among serious musicians which Charles had. Besides him, she felt her work seemed very silly and frivolous.

While the others were talking, Andy was following up earlier conversations with Emily through a session on facetime. She was worried about the mention of private detectives earlier, and also wanted to know how the news of a third wedding on the same day had gone down. 

She was very relieved to see that her old colleague had taken the news about Hannah and Harry joining the merry throng of would-be newlyweds with surprisingly good grace, as had Serena.

Although as Emily pointed out, there were some things one had to accept as given in this world, and one was, “If Miranda asks you to do anything, always say ‘Yes’ without question.” But she had also met Hannah at Christmas, and really liked her. She dressed much better than Andy did, anyway, and her hair was always immaculate. Emily liked that about her. 

It also meant that her wedding wouldn’t be the first on the day, so any problems would be sorted out before she walked up the aisle with darling old Dad, the highest and driest old homophobe in Hampshire. She still had no idea what Miranda had done to stop him ranting on about her relationship with Serena, but he hadn’t uttered a peep since Christmas, and had even muttered something about meeting the costs of their section of the day. That was a surprise! 

No other British relations were coming over, for apart from some cousins of her late mother, they didn’t seem to have any nearest and dearest. Her Dad always claimed he was an orphan, and never encouraged any more questions. He was unknowable on so many subjects, and never had been the sort of father to take one on his knee and tell stories of the good old days. 

Emily had been at boarding school from the age of eight, the year her mother first developed cancer, and had buried her feelings of abandonment and loss by becoming obsessed with fashion and how one looked to one’s peers. Her vision was set firmly forwards, not back into family stuff which instinct told her probably wasn’t that positive. 

Serena, on the other hand, remained in a semi-permanent state of hysteria about her father, step- mother, and all her younger siblings rolling into town. They, along with a full array of domestic staff and nannies, as well as some aunts and uncles, were renting a huge villa on the Massachusetts coast for the week before the wedding and wanted her there with them, so she supposed she would have to go and abandon Emily in their New York apartment. 

She hated doing this, especially as she just couldn’t take to the Revd. Charlton, and knew how bullied Emily had been by him in the past. She didn’t want to leave her alone with him. 

“Don’t worry, Seri, he’s going to stay with his ‘elfy’ girl-friend in the Bronx.” 

This comment was a reference to the weird red and white striped leggings the woman had worn underneath a blue leather mini-skirt to Miranda’s Christmas party. She too had a gay child, a large young woman in her thirties, who was the girl-friend of a police officer Miranda and Andy knew, although how they had first met, Emily could never figure.** 

It was a tangled web, but what astonished Emily was how attracted her father obviously was to this brash New Yorker as soon as they met, and commiserated with each other about the probable lack of grandchildren. She was the absolute opposite to Emily’s mother, who had personified good taste and British reserve. So if any Brazilian detectives came looking for information, she had nothing to tell them. 

Emily mentioned this to Andy in passing, but then moved on to where they were planning to honeymoon, the US Virgin Islands, far away from anyone they knew. Just her and Serena. It would be bliss.

“You really do love her, don’t you?”

“Of course, like crazy, like you and Miranda.”

“We are lucky then, aren’t we?” And Emily willingly agreed. Then she moved on to the fascinating subject of her wedding dress, and whether Andy could be trusted to behave properly as her bridesmaid.

“Come over lunch time tomorrow,” she ordered, “and I’ll take you to try your dress on.”

“I’m happy to do it, Em, but will I have time to then get ready for my own wedding?”

“Of course you will. Seri can do your make-up and I’ll organise your clothes and shoes. Miranda will understand. She knows only too well that you are just as likely to put something on inside out if left to your own devices.”

Andy laughed out loud. Emily obviously remembered the day early on in her illustrious career at Runway when she had indeed once rolled up to work in the morning with a Tee shirt on inside out, by mistake. 

It was an incident the clackers never let her forget, and Miranda had ordered her into her office and made her strip off and change it round while she stood, arms akimbo, in front of her. At the time she’d been mortified, but now, looking back she realised Miranda had relished the fun of seeing her fumbling assistant half naked and at a complete disadvantage. It might be fun one day to repeat the floor-show and see if Miranda reacted any differently.

Then, just as she and Emily closed down their conversation, another message flashed up on her IPad. It was Hannah, communicating from the gate at Tokyo airport. “Taking off within the hour! See you tomorrow!”

Andy went to find Miranda. 

“Will Cara mind if we convert her bedroom into another double guestroom?” she asked. “Our friends from Japan are flying in as we speak. The countdown has begun!”

Miranda was just standing in the drawing-room gazing at Andy’s portrait.

“Have I ever told you I love you, Miss Sachs?”

“Yes Mrs Priestly, on the odd occasion. But I wanted to ask you something. What shall we be called as a couple, after we are married?”

“Don’t you want to keep your name, as a writer, if you start to make it famous?”

“No, definitely not. I want to be known as your wife. I was just meaning, should we be Priestly-Sachs, or Sachs-Priestly?”

“Which do you prefer?”

“Priestly-Sachs.”

“Very well.”

Miranda spoke quietly, but inside her heart was bursting. For some strange reason, Andy’s willingness to formally link their two names together filled her with more joy than was reasonable. It would mean that the whole world would instantly know they were a couple. Yeah! She did a mental high five, but then moved swiftly on.

“And about the guest room, I’m sure Cara won’t mind. She only uses the room as a convenience or in case of emergencies. She’ll tidy away her things and even make the bed up for us when she comes tomorrow, she’s such a good person.”

“And she can come to the wedding?”

“Of course. In fact all of our guests have answered positively. It’s going to be bigger than the Met Gala at this rate. The road into Provincetown is going to have tailbacks as far as Boston.”

Andy grabbed her by the waist, twirling her round and started singing, “Oh, we’re goin’ to the chapel, and we’re goin’ to get married . . . .”

And another day drew to its sweet close.   
*As told in ‘Who do you think you are?’  
** As told in ‘Cuffed’.


	12. Stuff and Nonsense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A house full of music, and eyes full of stars, Andrea prepares for her wedding.

Ten days before Miranda’s wedding, and the town- house was full to bursting. It was 7am in the morning and Charles could be heard practising his cello in the drawing-room, an inflexible daily routine which would occupy him until past 10. George was up in the music room, doing similarly complex exercises on the piano, and Caroline was trying her best to copy their commitment to music in her bedroom. Only Cassidy, out of all the family musicians, had decided enough was enough, and was downstairs in the kitchen, chatting to Cara, and finishing some math problems before getting ready for school.

“Do you know when we are all going up to Provincetown?” she asked the housekeeper. “I want to see Mommy and Andy safely married, and I want to see Bumpy Boy.” 

“I ‘m not sure honey, but you’re going to have to stop calling him that now he’s born, you know. Isn’t his name going to be Spencer?”

“Huh. I won’t tell Dad and Cindy, but I think it’s a pretty silly name. What does it mean?”

“Don’t have a clue. Maybe it’s after Spencer Tracy. He was a famous actor when I was a kid. Been dead a long time now of course. Or maybe after someone in their family.”

“Tracy’s a girl’s name.”

“I know, but not when it’s a second name.”

“I hate being called Cassidy.”

“Do you darling? Haven’t you heard of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kid?”

“Who were they?” 

“Oh, old film characters, based on famous criminals from a hundred years ago. They ended up in Bolivia I think.”

“Mom and Dad weren’t very good at choosing names, were they? If we are all named after dead film actors and criminals. I hope when Andy has lots of children she has better ideas.”

Cara nearly choked as she was buttering the toast. “Oh, and what makes you think Andy wants to have lots of children?”

“Of course she will. She loves babies. She told me. Will you stay with us forever Cara, and help look after them? I shall be far too busy. I’ll be eleven next month, and I’ll have heaps to do at school. I’m going to try to get into the math club next semester.”

“Sure I will, honey, if your Mom and Andy need me. Don’t you fret now.”

Cara learned quite a lot of useful information in this short conversation. Cassie was probably right, and more babies would be joining the household in the not too distant future. Her little twin charges were indeed growing up, and would be teenagers before she could blink, and Cassie was heading down the road to academia. Anyone who did algebra puzzles for fun at the breakfast table had a brain which needed to be exercised and encouraged. 

Upstairs in the sanctuary of their bedroom, Cassie’s mother and her fiancée were not exercising their brains, but lying in bed together, making out with what had started off as a very gentle episode of loving. Miranda had slowly and teasingly lifted Andy’s Winnie the Pooh nightshirt up so it gradually revealed her beautiful body inch by inch, until it now trapped her arms and covered her face, and she was dropping small and random kisses over her breasts and belly, interspersed with little licks, and the odd wicked nip. All these activities caused Andy to buck and squeal and giggle. She struggled under her wrappings and tried to escape, but Miranda’s arms held her captive.

“Let me go! Stop! You’re tickling!”

“Sshh!” whispered Miranda. “This is my new morning inspection routine. I need to make sure no-one else has been kissing you in the night. Now be good and open your legs for me.”

“No!”

“Open!”

Miranda was now blatantly kissing Andy’s lower belly, and heading dangerously close to the seat of all pleasure. Andy couldn’t resist her any longer, and obediently opened her legs, hooking one over Miranda’s as well, and finally breaking out of her blindfold, to come up for air. She looked down to see Miranda about to dive in to her, and decided to turn the tables.

Using her natural agility and not inconsiderable strength, she flipped them both over, so that Miranda was now on her back, and she was firmly in control.

“If you want me, you can have me, but flat on your back, sweetheart.”

Andy pushed her hips forward and tempted Miranda.

“Come here then, my sweet love,” whispered Miranda, and pulled Andy forward some more, until she was kneeling with her legs next to Miranda’s face. Then Miranda ducked under Andy’s nightshirt and began to use her tongue in a delicious torture of sucking and sipping from Andy’s dripping inner core, which had obediently started to flood juices at those simple words of enticement.

It was a taste she liked better than any alcohol, and while Andy might be much younger and stronger than her, she knew she had the last word, the mental power over their sex-games. Within seconds, Andy was reduced to a pleading wreck.

Miranda’s mind went back to their first night in bed together, when she had experienced the revelation that she, Miranda Priestly the Ice-Queen, could make another person scream and achieve multiple orgasms all night, and that giving pleasure was far more wonderful than even receiving it yourself. But sex with Andy also enabled her to have very easy orgasms herself, which were immensely liberating after years of frustrated pretence with her husbands. 

When she was young, Gloria had taught her how to enjoy sex, and the basic practicalities of how to come, but her dim memories of those years were of nothing even faintly resembling the fireworks and complete affinity she felt with Andy. Here with this merry, clever, carefree girl, she had found her soul-mate at last.

Eventually they lay together, panting and perspiring, and exhausted, with both their nightwear discarded on the floor. But it had been well worth it. They looked into each other’s eyes and exchanged a final, long kiss. 

Then, after sharing a cold shower, and calming down, they somehow managed to arrive downstairs looking as fresh and innocent as a couple of business-like daisies. Cassie had been joined in the kitchen by Caroline and the twins were almost ready to leave for school.

Caroline asked the same question Cassie had put to Cara. “When are we going to the cottage, Mom? Will we miss classes?”

“Yes, but I’ve written to your school and arranged for you to have special permission to take three extra days off next week, and the following Monday. So check with your subject teachers and ask for work to do at home. We’ll be leaving here early on Wednesday morning, then Andy and I will collect you from your father’s place on Monday 17th.”

“I’ll miss my horse-riding lesson on the Saturday morning!” realised Cassie, with a little pout.

Her twin sister rounded on her. “Oh great! Well you can stay here with Cara if that’s more important to you, while the rest of us will go to see Andy marry Mom!”

“I didn’t mean . . . Sorry, Mom and Andy.”

“I know you didn’t, darling, and school lessons, riding lessons, and every other aspect of our life together will start again as normal the following week.”

Miranda briskly reassured her children, and they went off to school with Cara, much clearer about what was going to happen. 

Andy, meanwhile, was much less clear about how to organise the course of events over the next few days. Hannah and Harry were currently fast asleep at the top of the house, but when their body-clocks adjusted from Japanese time, they would plunge into their own last-minute preparations, and also need her help to make longer term plans about where to settle in New York. 

On top of this, Harry was determined to accompany Charles up to Boston, to explore these mysterious new cousins, so he and Hannah were planning to book into the Windhover Inn extra early. Andy had a whole pad full of checklists, memos and reminders to herself. She had a room allocation chart half-filled in, and was going to run downtown to Runway to complete this with Emily. She still hadn’t had the time to try on her bridesmaid’s dress either.

Serena only had two more days at work before she was taking a week’s extra vacation to spend time with her family, and there was so much to do. Then there was the definitely painful prospect of Miranda’s showdown with Trevor Charlton, with her determination that he confess his real identity to his daughter. This should ideally happen before the weekend, so Serena could know about it as well. 

Miranda was off on some mysterious project of her own soon after breakfast, so Andy took the subway downtown and made her old familiar way back to Runway. Emily was waiting for her, and took her through to the closet. 

“Here, this is my dress, hidden at the back, and here’s yours.”

Emily’s wedding dress was lovely, understated, and in an ivory satin. Andy did think it looked rather like an under-slip for something more elaborate, but of course, never said that to Emily. She knew her friend would look stunning in it.

“Have you seen Serena’s dress?”

“Not officially. But you know how inquisitive I am. I did sneak a look when she was having a fitting. It’s a cracker. Prada. She will look a million dollars.”

Emily now pulled Andy towards her proposed Bridesmaid outfit, and watched critically like a pro fashion stylist as she undressed and then pulled it gently over her head. It was a pale pink copy of Emily’s wedding dress, and complemented it exactly. The concept was extremely stylish, and Andrea gave Emily generous and genuine praise for her choices. 

Emily confessed. “Well, as you might expect, our Uncle Nigel had a hand in guiding me in the right direction.”

They both stared at Andy’s reflection in the mirror, and then Emily asked casually, “What happened to that nasty friend of yours, the one from the art gallery? I don’t suppose you've even invited her after what she did to you?”

“Lily? Well I have invited her actually. But I’m sure she won’t be able to come. She has been in New Zealand these last three months. Her boss at the Gallery has sent her out there after Christmas to set up a new outlet in Auckland and she’s very busy.”

“So you are still on speaking terms?”

“Yes, of course. We email now and then.” But Andy knew Emily was right in a way. She and Lily were nowhere near as friendly as they’d once been. 

They had almost mutually decided to quietly cool their once intimate friendship after the acute embarrassing confession Lily had made that she’d been sleeping with Nate for several months the previous year, and also how she was wracked with jealousy about all the blessings she’d seen shower into Andy’s life.* One day, maybe, they’d be as close again as they’d been as children, but Andy didn’t see it happening any day soon. 

Then as Andy went to undress and climb back into her normal clothes, Emily changed the subject again. 

“Dad called to say he’ll be here by the weekend. I told him Miranda wants to see him, but he didn’t comment, or ask what it is about. Shall I fix it up for him to come round to the town-house on Sunday afternoon? I’ll need something to entertain him. Serena will have left by then though.”

“Yes, I expect that might be OK. But let me check first. Miranda might think it a better idea if she comes to your place.”

“What’s this all about, Andy?” Emily looked puzzled, and troubled. “Miranda isn’t thinking of getting confirmed into the Church of England, is she? She hasn’t got religion looking at all those churches in Italy?”

“No. Not that I’ve heard anyway! But I know she wants to get something sorted out, for you really. Trust her. She has your best interests at heart. I just can’t say more than that.”

“So you do know.”

“Yes, but only just recently, and I promised I’d not interfere.”

“Wow. Hey, maybe I’m actually Miranda’s secret love child, the one she gave up to my parents for adoption at birth! Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“No, Emily, it wouldn’t. And I can tell you flat out, it’s not that!”

“Pity! Wouldn’t she make a scarily awesome mother?”

“The twins seem to be coping OK. Now let’s stop discussing my fiancée and concentrate on yours. Tell me all about Serena’s family. Have they received you into the fold yet?”

“Her father is really scary but her step-mother was kind.”

“How did her father make all his money?”

“I couldn’t find out. I know he owns a lot of boats, and has interests all over South America. Maybe it’s cruising of some sort.”

“Hmm.” Andrea wasn’t convinced. Wouldn’t it be ironic if Emily was accidentally marrying into a drug-cartel family, much bigger than the one her father had messed with thirty five years before? But she let it drop. 

They then turned their attention to room allocations, and other more cheerful topics like flower arrangements, and table settings. As it was all going to be based on large help-yourself buffets this was relatively easy, and they completed their business without falling out.

Walking home from the nearest sub-way station an hour later, Andy turned her mind to what she considered her last major conundrum, what to buy for Miranda’s wedding present. She wanted to give her something unique, something special she could always wear.   
They had already chosen matching rings, with the same tiny one word inscription inside, but Andrea wanted to get Miranda something else, something for round her glorious neck. It had to be lovely, and time was running out. She offered the problem up to the Universe to be given inspiration. Then she began to have the smallest germ of an idea. 

She bounced up the steps of the town-house, and called out to Miranda, “Honey, I’m home!” and the lovely thing to realise was, that in her case, it was absolutely true.

*As told in "The Spirit of Christmas."


	13. Never heard the like!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda remembers to carry a hanky, which is a good thing.

On the Sunday afternoon before her wedding, Miranda drove her Porsche out of the garage, and headed south down to Greenwich Village, to the address Emily had given her, which was the apartment she now shared with Serena. It was in an expensive area, almost in the same price bracket as the Upper East district where Miranda lived, so she guessed Serena must be paying the lion’s share of the rent. 

Miranda’s heart was heavy, and the responsibility of what she about to do weighed heavily on her, but it had to be done.

“Will you be OK on your own?” Andy had been anxious for her, and for Emily, knowing the likely outcome of the afternoon’s interview, but she’d smiled, and said. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. Just keep an eye on the twins for me, there’s a love.”

“Oh, of course, we are all going to take Tilly into Central Park to run off some steam in the sunshine. You could join us there later, if you like.”

“No, I’d better not promise to be back at a certain time. I hope I’ll see you all at dinner, and by then Charles may be home after his trip to Boston, so we can find out what he’s discovered.”

So the afternoon might end on a pleasanter note than it would begin. She hoped so. Driving through central Manhattan took concentration, even on a Sunday afternoon, and she had never been to Serena’s place, but the soothing tones of the GPS woman behind the dashboard guided her there safely, and she found some on-street parking close by. 

She pressed the bell at ground level, and looked up at the mid-rise block of apartments. Then she heard Emily’s voice in the intercom. 

“Miranda? I’m opening the door. Please come up to the third floor. The elevator is just in front of you.”

The heavy street door swung open as if by magic, and Miranda entered. She was wearing a business suit and heels, dressed for work, because this encounter would be anything but informal, and she instinctively knew that Emily might be reassured to see her in clothes she recognised and related to. 

She held her breath and coped with the small elevator. Every time she entered an elevator Miranda had an exasperatingly common little panic attack. It was a residue of a claustrophobia bestowed on her as a small child by her step-father, who enjoyed throwing her down into the coal cellar as a fun punishment, and had once fallen asleep in a drunken stupor and forgotten her until the following morning. But the third floor arrived within seconds, and she could breathe again.

She turned left down the corridor, and Emily had come out of the apartment to greet her. 

“Dad’s here,” she said. “Thank you for coming.” Though she still wasn’t sure why Miranda was gracing them with the visit. 

The flat was immaculate, stylish and bright, as Miranda had imagined it might be. When she entered, she saw her old protagonist sitting in a chair by the window. He looked older than when she had seen him only five months before, but at least he had taken off his stiff dog-collar, and was dressed like anyone else. He could pass in any crowd without being noticed.

Emily felt the awkwardness of the meeting, and said, “Would you like to sit down, Miranda? Can I offer you a coffee, or a tea?”

Miranda remained standing, but replied, “No dear, I’m fine. Could I just have a few words alone with your father? Do you mind?”

Emily gulped visibly and shook her head. “No, of course not. I’ll just go into the bedroom and um, do some tidying up.”

It was a very small apartment, so there was little choice of places to go to give them privacy. Emily backed away and went off into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. Then they heard her turn on the radio, as an extra reassurance that she couldn’t hear them through the door. Miranda walked over to the window, and turned so the light came from behind her, and Trevor had to blink slightly to read her expression.

“So we meet again Bobby.”

“Yes. As you see I haven’t said anything else to Emily about how unhappy I am with this idea of hers to get married to her girlfriend. I kept my side of the bargain.”

“As I recall, there was no bargain struck. I only urged you to do the decent thing, the Christian thing, to show a little love and understanding.”

She could see him flinch slightly as she invaded his territory of being a card-carrying evangelical Christian. 

“But there’s something much more important at stake here. I think you know that. Emily really has to be told the truth. You can’t keep it from her. Serena’s father has already threatened to put out private investigators on you, to check Emily is clean and won’t bring his family into disrepute, did you know that? He may already have done it. 

“But when they do some digging, how long do you think it will be before your true identity and background comes out? It could ruin Emily’s happiness for ever, hearing it from men hired by her fiancée’s father. It could stop their marriage, and also wreck her chances of a reconciliation with you. This is why you have to tell her, now, while I’m here. You’ve had more than enough time, and she’s not a child anymore. She’s a grown woman.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because Emily is, or was, my personal assistant for nearly three years, and someone I have a deep sense of responsibility about. She’s almost family.”

“She’s the only family I have too. I have always tried to shield her, but I suppose your sins will always find you out. Who would have known that little Miriam would be the avenging angel who would swoop down and find me out, after all these years?” 

He looked up at her. “After Christmas, I remembered you more and more clearly. You had long red braids down your back, and then you had them cut off, and overnight turned into a little looker. I remember Charlie Reynolds had a bit of thing for you.”

At the very mention of that name, Miranda’s eyes flashed. “A bit of a thing? Yes it was a bit of a thing. He caught me behind the fish and chip shop on the Walworth Road and raped me. I was barely fourteen, and still a virgin. It completely traumatised me. I didn’t speak of it for weeks, then when my period didn’t come, my foster mother took me for a test, and when they found I was pregnant, I was allowed to have an abortion. I even named him, but the police said there was no corroborating evidence, He was one of your best mates as I recall.”

“Oh, I am so sorry. I never knew. He died of a heroin overdose in his twenties, if that is any consolation.”

“What do you think?”

Miranda looked back on that year with such sadness, but it had galvanised her into action, and had eventually helped her build an armour plate of forged steel round her emotions.

“Because of you and your drug-running, all of us foster kids were sent away to other parts of London, and I lost touch with everyone. But this, today, isn’t about me. It’s about you and Emily. If you do love her, and want to be in her life, then tell her what happened, how you repented and reformed, how you are still repenting, and you are genuinely sorry for trying to block her love for Serena. 

“I am going to bring her out of the bedroom. She must have sorted her socks by now. And I am going to leave you alone in here together. You can do it, Bobby. I know you can. You can’t be more frightened of your own daughter than you are of all those mobsters who used to be chasing you across London for stealing their trade.”

“Yes, send her in. If P.I.s are after me, then it won’t be long before the police will be as well. I have lied blatantly on my immigration visa-waiver forms, but they are getting so much tighter after 9-11, I think they’ll be on to me soon. And Marcy, my new partner, her daughter actually lives with another gay cop, which is how we met at your party. My life seems to have gone full-circle in the last six months, it’s crazy.”

Miranda decided it was time to move, before he got more cold feet, and went across to the bedroom door. 

“Emily, please come out now. Your Dad and I have had our little chat, and he has some things to tell you. While you talk privately, I’m going to take the opportunity, if you don’t mind, to sit at your make-up bar and give myself a manicure. I’m sure you have some interesting shades I can try out.”

Emily looked at Miranda with her mouth open. “Oh . . .Yes . . . here . . .Try these.”

She pulled out a large tray of various colours, and ample supplies of nail buffers and files, along with cotton removal pads. 

“That will be lovely. Thank you.” 

And Miranda pushed Emily gently back out into the living room and closed the door on her. She took the liberty of retuning the radio from pop to PBS and turned the sound up even louder. Then she tried to focus on replacing her perfectly adequate manicure, with something new from Emily or Serena’s palette. The bright purple looked quite interesting, or maybe the green.

It was fifteen minutes later, as Miranda was listening to a talk about sustainable bee-keeping in Wisconsin, and had almost reached her seventh finger nail, when she heard a sharp cry from the next room, and then a sound of sobbing which went on for several minutes..

Oh dear. Well finally the truth had been born. She carefully screwed up the bottle of varnish and turning, stood up. There was the sound of a door shutting, and then the bedroom door opened. Emily stood there, tears streaming down her face.

Miranda walked towards her, and Emily fell into her open arms in what might be accurately called floods of tears. 

“Sshh, there, there. Just cry it out. It will be all right. Far better that you know.”

“It’s. . . it’s just the shock, you know . . . I would never have dreamed in a thousand years . . .” she gulped, too shocked to realise that Miranda, who had never touched her, and who had seemed previously to hate any show of emotion, was now soothing her, if not like a mother, then very close to it.

“And you knew this, all along? Why would you keep it to yourself?”

“I only realised when I met him again at Christmas. I wanted him to tell you. But Emily, he is still the same man who brought you up. He’s been hiding from the past in the Church all these years maybe, but he is still your father. And now he’s told you the truth. You can start to have an honest relationship.”

“I sent him away,” sobbed Emily. “I told him I hated him and wanted him gone. I think he’s gone to Marcy’s. But I didn’t really mean it . . he’s my Dad, and I still love him. Oh Miranda, what shall I do?” 

“Use my handkerchief to dry your eyes while I make us both a cup of tea.”

Emily accepted the little folded square gratefully, and even in this crisis, thought how stylish it was of Miranda to have a perfectly laundered cotton handkerchief about her person. (She didn’t realise that Miranda had just a few days ago had accepted the same handkerchief gratefully from Andy’s Mom, and now kept it as a little talisman.)

She sat down on the couch, hardly knowing what to do or think next. Her father’s set of wedding clothes hung in a garment bag from a hook on the apartment door, and seeing them brought on a fresh wave of misery.  
“Do you think Serena will possibly still have me, once she knows I’m the daughter of a jail-bird? Apparently he was sentenced to seven years!” 

“Well, he got out in five, he told me, for good behaviour.” Miranda realised, as she said it, that this was of little comfort.

“And my poor mother never knew a thing!”

“It seems not. He really did start a new life, moved a hundred miles away from London, and settled down. He’s no longer a criminal, Emily.”

Miranda brewed them both a cup of tea with a bag between two mugs, and passed one to the girl.

“Do you think so?”

“I trust so. He told me, and I think he was telling the truth. He’s pretty much a broken man, Emily, and he does seem to love his new partner.”

“But, Miranda, if he came into the USA, not once, but twice, under false pretences, isn’t he an illegal alien?”

“Probably. Especially with a conviction for drug-dealing. But . . .”

Miranda looked anxiously at Emily, who she could see was about to have a complete melt-down. 

“But Emily . . . listen to me. It’s only a week to the wedding. Why don’t we hope for the best? I think you should message your father and tell him you still love him. Let him stay with Marcy until you both calm down, and after you have had a chance to talk to Serena, then we can think it through again. Do you want me to stay with you while you call her?”

“I don’t know! She’ll be with her family by now. Oh Miranda, they’ll never let her marry me now. My life is ruined.”

“Hush, no it’s not, not at all.” Miranda hugged Emily and rocked her back and forth against her chest. 

“Look, I don’t like leaving you here on your own. Come back to the town house with me. You can talk to Serena from there. We have a spare bedroom available, now that Hannah and Harry have left for Cape Cod, and Andy and I will look after you. Do you have your father’s number?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Well ring him.”

Emily sniffed pathetically, but tried to make the call with shaking fingers.

“It’s gone straight onto answerphone.”

“Then just leave a message. Everything will look better tomorrow. I promise.”

Emily did leave a voice message, halting and very sad, but she told her father she still loved him, and hoped they could work through everything. But not to return to the apartment as she was going to stay overnight with Miranda.

Then Miranda briskly washed up their empty tea mugs, (Emily goggled at this) and told her to pack an overnight bag. Emily obeyed, and they drove back up to the town-house together.

When Andy opened the door, she raised her eyebrows in concern on seeing the pair of them, but Miranda shook her head to discourage any questions. 

“Emily is staying with us tonight, girls,” she said to the twins. “I’m just showing her up to her room.”

Cassie and Caroline, still warm from running all over Central Park, looked up at Andy with little pink, puzzled faces.

“Why is Emily here?” asked Caroline. “And why has Mom only got nail-varnish on six fingernails?”

“It’s like a cop thriller,” declared Cassie. “Or the end of the world! I’ve never seen the like!”

This made Andy roar with laughter, as this was one of Momma’s favorite expressions. 

“Not the end of the world, sweetie. Perhaps it’s the latest look in manicures. Come on, let’s check through your homework, and make sure it’s all done for school tomorrow. Mommy will be down soon, and then we’ll find out what has been happening. But be nice to Emily. She may have had bad news.”

They went to get their school books like good little girls, but Cassie whispered as she went, “I still think Emily is a snobby-boots. But she is nicer than she used to be, or maybe we just know her better.”

“Most people are nicer when you know them better,” declared Andy, and she spoke the truth. People are nicer, when you understand them better, even the worst sort, which Emily certainly wasn’t.


	14. Plain clothes cops and tinted windows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily is surprised by yet more alarming news, and Miranda pretends she can make Bolognese sauce. Is there no end to the deceit flying around? We are getting very close now, folks, so hang on to your hats.

Emily had never had a kitchen supper at Miranda’s before. In fact, apart from the Christmas party, she had never ventured into any of the private rooms in the Town House beyond the hallway and study. It was a revelation to her how relaxed and, well, normal, Miranda was at home with her children and Andy. She’d quickly repaired and replaced her half-finished nail-varnishing project, and as always dressed as if she was expecting to meet the Queen of England, but otherwise she looked like any other mother on a Sunday evening, draining pasta, and asking her kids if they’d finished their homework.

“Yep, Andy checked it through. We’re all done now,” said Cassie, putting cutlery round the table. “How many of us are eating supper?”

Emily, following Miranda’s quick smile and gesture of invitation, had sat down nervously on one of the side benches round the red and white checked table-cloth, and was worrying about how much food Miranda would put on her plate, and whether she could manage to eat any of it. The day’s events had unnerved her so much, she could feel her eating disorder coming on, when she couldn’t swallow a thing, and would normally have to rush to the cloakroom to throw up. 

Miranda did a little sum in her head and said, “Seven. Four of us, Emily, and then Charles and George who are back now from Boston.”

“George is an easy guest,” said Andy who had picked up the tail end of the conversation. “But he’s so quiet you scarcely remember he’s here, except when he’s playing the piano of course.”

She had spent the last hour with Emily, literally holding her hand while she had lain on her bed in the third guestroom and wept against her shoulder. But then Emily had had a return message from her father, in the shape of a long text, and it seemed to have cheered her up, and calmed her. 

He repeated again all his apologies for not telling her about his life thirty or forty years before, and said how much he loved her. If she didn’t want him at her wedding, he would understand, but he could come to the townhouse tomorrow to see her, and if that was the case, maybe say goodbye.

“But I do want him at the wedding. His misdeeds were so long ago, and he’s my only family. In a weird way, I do feel much closer to him now than I ever have before. It was almost like living with a stranger. I never understood him.”

So Andy had encouraged her to go wash her face, and then come down to have supper with the family. “Call him later, and tell him you want him to give you away. It sounds as though he’s OK at Marcy’s.”

“But what shall I say to Seri?”

“Tell her the truth. You’ve no choice. But do it later, after we’ve all eaten, and she’s finished dinner with her people up north.”

“They’ll eat very late. Brazilians always do.”

“Then leave it till the morning, unless she calls you for a late-night smooch over the phone.”

So Emily found herself squashed in between the twins on one side of the kitchen table while Miranda dished up copious amounts of Spaghetti Bolognaise and green salad. Cara had made the Bolognaise sauce and frozen it earlier, but Miranda didn’t think her guests needed to know every last detail of her culinary skills, or otherwise. Andy, Charles and George made up the other side of the supper table. They all tucked in, and Emily was very grateful to see how small her helping was. 

“There’s always second helpings available if you’d like more,” said Miranda as she passed her dish across. Their eyes met, and Emily felt a warmth and an acceptance without judgement which she’d never experienced from Miranda before. She picked up her fork and spoon and started to twiddle the spaghetti into a manageable shape to eat. She’d try, anyway.

“Now, Charles, what we’ve all been waiting for! Tell us what you found out in Boston.”

“It was hilarious! Do you remember girls, in the Lord of the Rings, when Frodo and friends return to the shire and all the Hobbits come out to meet them?”

“Yes, but where is this leading us?”

“Well it was a bit like that.”

Caroline was as quick as a whip with her question.

“You mean our cousins all have hairy feet and are three feet high?”

“No, not like that! But the whole family has the same look, they all have happy round faces and ginger curls. It was incredible. They gathered to meet us at Evelyn’s house, and in total, how many people do you think were there?”

Miranda remembered he’d mentioned nine siblings, who were all married. 

“About twenty-five?”

“No, including all their kids, grandkids and in-laws, fifty two!” 

“Wow!” said Andy. “So how many sets of twins?”

“Four sets altogether. The ages of the whole family range from fifty-eight down to one, and they are the merriest, craziest bunch I’ve ever met, don’t you agree, George?”

Mostly silent George nodded, and then said, “They seem to have taken over a whole block in North Boston. And they have their own orchestra!”

”What!?”

Charles carried on. “Well it’s actually a traditional Irish fiddle and accordion band. Eight of the family play the fiddle, and six play the accordion. They go round playing at functions, and they want to come to your wedding. In fact as soon as they heard about it, and that it would be up near Boston, there was no stopping them. I’m afraid they’ve invited themselves!” 

Miranda and Andy looked at each other, and then at him. 

“You’re kidding!” said Andy.

“No”, said Charles, “They insisted, and don’t want paying or anything. They want to be there for you all.”

“Did you tell anyone there it was a gay wedding?” asked Miranda cautiously.

“Oh yes, a double gay wedding and another besides. That’s another thing about the crazy McCarthys, as well as twins, being gay seems to run in the family. Three of the nine siblings are in same sex marriages!”

“And I was expecting them all to be conservative Catholics!” laughed Miranda. “Well who would have thought it?” 

Emily ventured a remark, “So for our wedding day, we now have Charles and the twins trio, the old time jazz band, Serena’s Latin American Salsa band, and now an Irish Folk ensemble. Shouldn’t we have made sure the Inn has a public music venue licence?”

“I already did,” said Andy. “They do, so no worries on that score. But I’d better increase the catering order to another fourteen plates, to feed all these Bostonians.”

Charles cleared his throat. “Well maybe a few more than that I’m afraid. I think the musicians will bring at least as many again of their family to support them and give you all a good send off.”

Cassie had her head tilted back and was pouring long strands of spaghetti into her mouth from on high, slurping them in with loud sucking noises. 

“Don’t do that darling,” said Miranda. 

Everyone else was stunned into silence. This surely was going to be a wedding to remember. They all reflected on the unlikely mix of cultures and ages.

Then a little voice piped up. “Oh I just forgot to tell you earlier,” said Caroline, almost as a casual afterthought. “Aunty Hannah called to say she’s arranged a mini-bus from Boston airport, Mommy. Eight of their friends from Japan are flying in on Friday, and can you find rooms for them somewhere near the wedding place for the weekend? They all want to come to the wedding as well. Won’t that be fun? I’ve never met a real Japanese person. Will Uncle Harry and Auntie Hannah have to have their wedding spoken in Japanese?”

“I don’t expect so, darling. Now, would anyone like more spaghetti and sauce? There’s plenty here.” 

And Miranda started another round of food from the big pot, starting with Emily. Only her steely self-discipline and practice at not showing emotion stopped her from falling about laughing with genuine hysteria. And all she’d wanted was an intimate, quiet little wedding with Andy and their closest family. Oh well, go with the flow . . . 

Towards midnight, long after the rest of the household were fast asleep in bed, Emily’s cell phone throbbed with sign that Serena was trying to call her. With a mixture of adoration and dread, Emily answered.

“Hello, babe,” she said nervously. “Thanks for calling. How are things with you?”

“Darling Em, you will never in one thousand years, believe how dreadful it has been up here. Everything is chaotic! There are police everywhere, and the FBI guys, you know those ones in raincoats, just like the movies, well, they all had arrest warrants for my uncles and were waiting at the house. 

“They are talking about a serious crime squad and a SWAT team being needed. My father has gone to the police station to try to get bail for them, but it is Sunday night and of course no-body can do anything until tomorrow. My step-mother keeps wailing, and saying she knew they should not have come into the states. 

“Obviously the cops have been lying in wait for them to get up here. And all the children are frightened. It’s such a quiet place and now the neighbours are all standing around in their front yards filming us on their phones, like its some episode of CSI! Honestly Em, you’ll never want to marry me after this. I’m so very, very sorry!”

Emily swallowed hard. Serena’s family’s troubles made her father’s thirty-year old misdemeanours suddenly look small beer. 

“Babe, Seri, don’t apologise. I have just discovered my old man spent five years in jail for drug-dealing back in the seventies, and even now might be a fugitive. Whatever is going to hit us, we’ll get through it together. None of this is our fault.”

“Maybe. No, but I should have guessed where all my uncles’ millions of loose cash came from. And, even though he’s probably too rich and powerful to be arrested right now, I suspect my Dad is also up to his neck in the business.”

“What is it? Drugs?”

“Yes, mainly. Cocaine through Colombia into Mexico and up here. They wouldn’t tell us much, but of course it’s pretty obvious. Police went through all our things and ransacked everyone’s suitcases, touched all my stuff.”

Serena was normally Miss Cool, but Emily could hear the tremor in her voice.

“Thank God, no-body was hurt when they arrested your uncles. God, I hope not.”

“Well no, although Dad’s body-guard pulled a gun, which was rather unfortunate and of course only made things worse. No-one knows how he even got it in the country!”

“What can I do to help? Should I wake Miranda and tell her?”

“No! Please try and keep it quiet until tomorrow, when I’ll know more clearly what it all means. You try and get some sleep. I’m sure I won’t though. Oh, I have to go. They need me. All the maids are in shock, and crying. You have no idea how horrible it is.”

Emily closed her phone and lay back down on Miranda’s exquisitely fine cotton pillows. She fell asleep from sheer exhaustion, but her last thought was one of relief. At least Serena’s father could hardly throw his weight around and forbid the marriage now. But maybe neither of their Dads would be able to make it to the ceremony at all!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
Trevor Charlton arrived at the house by ten the following morning, and was shown into the dining room where he and Emily could talk, uninterrupted. After twenty minutes they emerged, and Emily said, 

“Thank you so much, Miranda, for all your kindness. Dad and I are leaving now. We’re going back to the apartment to collect our clothes, and then travelling up to Massachusetts on the train together. It’s probably best if Dad keeps off the airlines. We’ll see if we can do anything to help Serena and then we’ll go to the Inn. Dad’s friend Marcy is coming up on Friday along with Kerry and Sal, so it gives us a few quiet days together first.”

Miranda looked thoughtful, then said, “Tell Serena, anything I can do to help her that’s legal, I will, and that applies to you two as well. It’s a terrible shock to hear about her father and his brothers. Have you learned anything else since breakfast?”

“No. But I can’t imagine anything good is happening. I have to get up there to be with her. Nigel will understand.”

“Well, stay safe, and call us if anything even worse happens. Andy will join you at the Inn on Friday, with all her family who are coming from Ohio.”

Trevor held out his hand, and repeated Emily’s thanks, and so Miranda shook it. The past was the past, and nothing could alter it now, but the future was theirs to forge, and she hoped it would be positive for them all.

“I’ve changed the bed I slept in,” Emily mentioned. “Andy gave me some clean sheets.”

“That’s very good of you, but you need not have bothered.”

“Oh, between vicarages and boarding school, I was always taught to leave a room as I found it. So good bye for now.”

“Goodbye. Stay safe. We’ll see you soon.”

Miranda closed the front door behind them. Emily’s news about Serena had really shaken her. It was obvious that her Beauty Editor’s father was involved in serious international crime, and she was definitely concerned for the safety of her own children. Supposing there was a police shoot-out at the wedding, with so many elderly people and youngsters present? It could end in a blood-bath! But then Miranda took herself in hand.

“You’ve been watching too many episodes of NCIS”, she told herself and made a real effort to think of much more positive things.

The first of which was the delivery by courier of the twins’ two outfits, so different from each other, like two sides of the same complex personality. She knew each would love her own look, and together they would be worthy of any cover spread. 

Miranda had inwardly resigned herself to appearing at least on Page 6, if not a whole gamut of tabloids, but Nigel had also warned her of his plans to do a Runway special for the July edition, and for Andy’s sake she had agreed. The beautiful girl, entirely artless and unaffected, would make a wonderful cover model. Miranda was so proud of her. 

Now there were only two more days of school and preparation, before the whole family decamped to Provincetown, and the weather forecast for the rest of the week was fair to warm. She went to find Andy, who was busy booking yet more rooms for all of Hannah’s friends, in neighbouring establishments. Word must surely be getting round Provincetown by now, that a very special wedding day was coming into town the next Saturday. 

In fact, Miranda didn’t know the half of it. Up in Provincetown, the owner of her favourite little beauty salon, just off Main Street, had already been visited by at least three separate fashion reporters, all trying to look nonchalant but asking if she had any significant bookings for wedding hairdos on Friday afternoon or early Saturday. Then the place seemed to be running with plain-clothes cops, with the large black people carrier vehicles with tinted windows, reportedly belonging to the secret service, also seeming to be lurking around every corner. 

Four carloads of Portuguese speaking Brazilian children had just been unloaded in the main square and were off buying beach towels and footballs, accompanied by hassled looking domestic staff, obviously told to do something with them to amuse them and take them away from the adults.

That must have something to do with the raid up at the Point, in one of those large rental villas. News of this had run round the town like a lit fuse wire, and rumours were rife, that it was all about a big Mafia gang battle. The little town was abuzz with all the sensational gossip, most of it untrue, but some of it definitely on the button. 

Up at the Windhover Inn on the edge of town, Mel and Frieda, who were now reconciled, and were back singing from the same hymn sheet, ( not that they ever went to church any more, having been chucked out for daring to love each other back in their twenties.) The marquees had now been erected, with the inside platforming installed, and the electricians had completed the wiring and lighting. 

It was now the floral designer’s turn. Andy and Emily had found an outstanding florist, and combining their resources, could afford the best in Boston. When she and her team finished, the canvas tents would be transformed into magical fairy forest glades. The dance floor was also being laid, and a large fountain installed in its middle, with dolphins and little sea gods riding them al round it. The lighting had a wonderfully soft sparkling effect, which would gradually come on more brightly as the natural daylight fell away, and the moon came out. 

Mel had never seen anything like it anywhere, let alone hosted such an event in her own Inn. Every room was booked, not only with her and Frieda, but also in several of the Inns up and down their coast road, and she had refused any other bookings for the coming week, just to be on the safe side. She personally supervised the cleaning and preparation of every guest chalet and suite, and even consulted the astronomical calendar to check exactly where the moon would be on its cycle. She was pleased to see it would rise just above the open end of the large marquee, and shine down over the water in the bay all evening. 

By the time Emily Charlton called to ask if she and her father could book in early that same evening, Mel was pleased and proud of how her little Inn looked, and how it was ready to welcome all the guests, from as far afield as Australia, and Japan, so Andy had told her. Even the green fly had decided to leave the rose bushes in peace, which were now all coming out from their buds, and the scent of lilac hung over the lawns. New England in May was a sight to behold. 

Having been on the phone together for so many hours, she now felt she knew Andrea like an old friend. She’d been warned about the likely media invasion, so when Hello, Life, People, Celebrity, Dog’s World, Sailor’s Weekly and every other magazine started calling to ask if Miranda Priestly was getting married at her place, she knew how to avoid answering. “There are three weddings taking place on Saturday. You don’t imagine Miranda from Runway will be sharing her day with two other couples do you? Goodbye.” This became her stock answer. 

Frieda had stopped answering the phone altogether, but was still queen of the kitchen, preparing her many exquisite little canapes, ready for filling, and also providing tea and cinnamon buns for all the workers. Her cooking skills were still legendary and behind the scenes she reigned supreme. The special request for a substantial amount of high end Vegan food had been just up her street, and she was happy as anything, preparing treats.

Back in New York, by the end of Tuesday, Miranda and Andrea knew they had done all the necessary hard work, and could finally begin to enjoy the prospect of their wedding. Miranda’s surprise outfit had arrived and been safely disguised in one of her several suitcases, and Nigel would be bringing Andy’s dress with him in his own car with Douglas. 

The plan was to wake the girls at five on Wednesday morning, and drive them up north in the Lexus, this time with Cara as well as the twins. Miranda would drive the Lexus, while Andy took the Porsche, in which they would slip away together late on Saturday evening. 

Charles and George were hiring another car, as the two cellos needed a back seat to themselves. Pumpkin and Matilda were going into pet-care for the next five days, not that anyone had dared tell them yet. Then Cara would drive most of the luggage and Caroline’s cello back to New York late on Sunday. It was a complex plan, but everything about it was now organised. Miranda and Andrea could finally fall into bed, and slept the sleep of the just. 

From now on, it was just going to be lovely fun. 

The only person who was still worrying about Saturday, was Agatha, the poor public registrar and celebrant, who had just received three different packs of wedding service order booklets, with three totally different sets of vows, and wondered if she should think up three different little homilies. All three were secular weddings, but two of them included prayers, one had a poem, (which she didn’t really understand), and one a reading from an ancient Japanese philosopher. 

Oh well, Agatha thought, she would just go with the flow. It seemed the best way. She put out the light, gave her dog a biscuit for being good and going to his bed, and went upstairs to her own. And the moon rose up above the Bay, just as it would on the day of Miranda’s wedding.


	15. Two weddings, so far, so good!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The big day arrives. Are we all ready? Up at the beach cottage, the family have unexpected visitors. In the Inn, Harry has written a Haiku.

Early on Saturday morning, Cara was the first one to hear the crunch of tyres on the gravel. She looked out of the window at the beach cottage to see a large car pull up. 

“Visitors!” she called out. “Who drives a Mercedes?” 

Cassidy, whose hair she was attempting to brush, wriggled free and ran to the door.

“Dad and Cindy! And the baby! Caro, Dad and Cindy and Bumps are here! Come and see!”

It was barely eight o’clock, so they must have set out really early from Boston. But this morning, the very day of Andy and Miranda’s wedding, everything was excitingly different. Caroline rushed to the door as well, and then recognised the other woman emerging from the back seat. 

“And Della, Cindy’s Mom. We met in New York.” Caroline explained to Cassie, as they both ran outside. This was their first chance to see their new baby brother in person. Geoff was unstrapping him from his infant car-seat, and gingerly lifting him up. 

“We thought we’d come out here for some peace and quiet, so Cindy can feed the baby. The centre of town is heaving, and there is already a long line of cars queuing up on the shore road towards the Inn which Miranda chose as the venue. ” he explained ruefully to Cara. 

They watched two little human pogo-sticks with ginger hair literally jump and down with excitement, as he added, “And I also wanted Cindy and Della to see this place. Isn’t it a great little spot?”

“Sure is,” said Cara. “ It beats the city and I understand now why Miranda and Andy are so keen to keep coming up here.”

She led the visitors into the main room. “I’ll fix you all some coffee. You must be tired and hungry already.”

Cindy took their baby from her husband, and walked him over to the windows. It was what all visitors did, instinctively, as the views were dramatic, shining waters to right and left in the blessed spring sunshine. 

Della smiled at the twin she thought must be Caroline and asked to be introduced to Cassie, who smiled nicely. Caroline noticed Della had actually changed out of total marshmallow pink into a smart sea-green wedding outfit, and had even reverted to a grey-blonde hair colour from the pink tinge she’d sported on their last meeting. 

“What do you think of your new brother? Isn’t my grandson a sweetie?” asked Della proudly.

“He’s gorgeous. When can we hold him, Cindy?” 

“Here, sit on the sofa and you can both share him. I’ll put him on your laps.”

So this was how Spencer Edgar Priestly first met his sisters, opening his startling blue eyes and focusing up at them. He was now a month old, with his mouth still making little O shapes, and he looked adorable. Geoff basked in the wonder of him. Then he noticed the obvious.

“Where’s Miranda?”

Cara raised her eyebrows, and beckoned him into the kitchen with a nod of her head. Obviously something was up.

“What’s the matter?” he whispered.

“I’m not sure.” Cara spoke under her tongue. “But I think she may be in a funk about the wedding. She went out, so say for a breath of air, nearly an hour ago, and still hasn’t returned. She needs to get ready. Time’s ticking on. I’m really glad to see you, Geoff. I didn’t know what to do. Can you maybe go down the beach and see if you can find her anywhere?”

“Sure, but can I take my coffee with me? I could just do with it to pull me round.”

He picked up a full mug and slipped out of the door, walking round the side of the shingled roofed white house, and then strolling down to the long expanse of sands. He looked as far as he could see in both directions, and then saw a tiny still figure almost a quarter of a mile away, sitting alone on the beach. Geoff took a large gulp of his coffee and set out towards her, for as he approached, he could confirm it was definitely Miranda. 

She was sitting on a little hillock of soft sand just back from the tide-line wearing sunglasses, and it was obvious she wasn’t in a good place.

“Hey girl, what’s up? Last minute jitters?” There was no point pretending. He knew her too well.

Miranda said nothing in reply, so he sat down beside her, looking at the pretty little waves, and finished his coffee in silence. 

“I shouldn’t have asked her.” Miranda said, after a long pause. “I shouldn’t be shackling her onto me. I will ruin her life.”

“Hey, what has brought this on? You sounded fine on the phone yesterday.”

“I’ve just come to my senses, that’s all. Andrea is so lovely, so pure, so positive, and look at me, what am I?”

“What are you?”

“A warped, poisonous old witch. I lusted after a beautiful young girl and lured her up to my castle, and now I deluded myself into thinking that by marrying her I can make her happy.”

“Darling Miranda, I agree you and I have had our ups and downs, but I know you better than most people, and for longer. No-one is perfect, but you are not poisonous, not at all. You are loving and very kind, and Andrea adores you, inside and out. Anyone can see that. You do make her happy. You make each other happy. I’ve never seen two people more in love.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Yes, now when did these crazy thoughts start? Wasn’t Andy here with you till yesterday evening?”

“Yes, and we have had a sweet time. Cara has been such a help, and we played with the children on the beach. But Andy’s left now to go to her family, and it just flooded over me. The realisation how self-deluded I’ve been all these months. Her father was quite right in the beginning. I shouldn’t be allowed near her, let alone to marry her.”

“Miranda!” Geoff realised she needed shaking out of this morbid plunge into irrational introspection. “For God’s sake girl! Stop being such a drama queen. This isn’t some Broadway play in which you have the right to take the role of the villain. You need to stop. Now. What would Andy say if she heard this nonsense?”

“I guess she’s tell me the same as you. That I’m reading from the wrong script.”

“Exactly. Now get up and stop being weird. Trust me, if you refuse to marry Andrea, you will break her heart, your children will hate you for at least the next ten years, and her father really will come after you with a shot-gun!”

“You’re right. I know. But I feel so guilty, that’s all.”

“What about?”

“Oh, being me, I suppose. Being so much less than she thinks I am.”

He stood up, and roughly manhandled Miranda to her feet as well. She looked somehow little and almost frail as she stood there in her tracksuit and bare feet, holding a pair of flip-flops in one hand. Her hair was frankly a mess, and he could see behind her sunglasses she’d been crying for ages. 

“Come on home, girl. You need to realise this is just garbage, feeding on your first-night flutters, and turn the page on it.”

“I guess I need to throw out the whole book. I haven’t enjoyed the story it’s been telling me all night.”

“Exactly. Now, walk with me back along the water’s edge, and show me how you have the knack of skimming pebbles so they bounce on the water. No-one can do it like you. So teach me. I want to look impressive for Spencer when he gets older.”

Miranda smiled a tiny smile at his gentle flattery, and her mind flipped out of depression into starting to look for flat stones. Here, where she’d had her first big breakdown back in early September, she remembered how Andrea’s Mom had told her then not to pay attention to negative whispers from inside her head. It was on this very same beach, and she should have paid more attention. 

Geoff was right. She was being a drama queen. Today wasn’t just about her, but also about making other people happy. If she was a witch and could cast any spells, then she should cast one on herself to dispel all the negative self- doubt. She had a superstitious thought. If she could skim a stone more than three times, then everything would be OK.

“The knack is in a flick of a wrist,” she said. “Here, watch!” She picked up her chosen flat pebble, and sent it flying, and they watched it bounce a perfect six times before it fell into the water.

“Wow, what a star,” said Geoff, taking her arm firmly with one hand, as he swung his empty mug in the other.

“Now let’s get back. Cara will be worried, and those kids of ours want to be in time for Hannah and Harry’s wedding. They told me the wedding’s going to be in Japanese.”

“It might be,” laughed Miranda, feeling a million times better than even a few minutes before. “Today anything is possible. Come on, I’ll race you back.” And so they ran back along the beach together, not like a divorced couple in their fifties, but more like teenagers let out of school early.

\---------------  
Up at the Windhover Inn, the place was soon heaving with happy wedding guests who had all now realised that this was going to be a three ring circus, with an open invitation to attend each of the different ceremonies. Mel had expected a traffic jam and had phoned her neighbours who owned a field opposite, to ask if they could provide space for overflow parking.

She promised them she’d pay for any damage to the grass, and they’d agreed, even offering their two teenage boys to act as parking attendants. So the line of cars off the main road was gradually shortening. 

But then a sixty seater bus arrived as well, and what appeared to be a whole band of musicians poured out. They all had red hair and were wearing green jackets, and tartan caps, looking like an explosion of leprechauns across her lawns. This must be what Andrea had tagged “The Bostonians”, who were here really early, and obviously intended to play for the ‘Japanese’ wedding. 

Upstairs, in their parents’ bedroom, Andrea and Hannah were prepping for Hannah’s big day. She had somehow sourced a beautifully fitted white dress, decorated with a sash of cherry blossom printed silk. Her three work colleagues from Tokyo were all going to act as her attendants, and were getting dressed in their full traditional kimono costumes, even down to the elaborate hair-dos. They were so occupied with this, that they actually had no time to help her get ready, so Jenny and Andy were doing what they could, and soothing her nerves. 

“Is Harry where he should be?” she asked, worried somehow that he might decide to take a little stroll just at the wrong moment.

“He’s fine,” assured Andy. “George and Charles have him in hand.” 

“You look nice,” said Hannah, looking in the mirror at her sister as she stood behind her. 

“I know, Miranda‘s choice of dress, obviously! I’m wearing this to your wedding, then changing into my bridesmaid’s outfit for Emily, then changing again for our own ceremony! It’s all go. And I have to keep changing my shoes as well!”

“But you’re OK with us joining you? You’re happy?”

“Ecstatically. Happy as a bird.” 

Their father popped his head round the door. “My two beautiful daughters!” He looked very smart himself, in his formal grey tailcoat, striped pants and waistcoat, and crisp white shirt. “I’m going down to supervise the children playing outside. Richard and Randall, and little Bobby seem to have been joined by a group of Brazilian kids, and they are all running round the marquees causing mayhem.”

“Thanks, Daddy. We’ll be waiting for you up here at 10.45.”

Andy was relieved to hear that Serena’s family were finally at the Inn. It had been touch and go all week, whether her step-mother might take her children all back to Brazil for fear of another cop raid, but Serena had now moved into the Inn, and she and Emily had consoled each other about their less than perfect parents. The wicked uncles were still in custody and definitely would not be attending the wedding though. 

Andy looked down from the front windows, surveying the gathering crowds. Her parents had the best suite in the main building, and it gave her a good view of everyone as they arrived. Nigel, bless him, seemed to be acting as general Master of Ceremonies, welcoming everyone. He had gone the whole hog and was dressed as a ring-master at a circus, complete with red coat, black boots, and a top hat.

“Right on!” thought Andy, “You don’t know how apt your costume is, Nigel!”

She knew her own brothers and sisters and partners were all safely installed, but she could see now a whole cavalcade of New York’s high society trooping in, invited by Serena no doubt, and then she saw some extra faces she recognised.

There were Lee and Gloria, who had taken Momma into town for her promised hair-do, and were escorting her back. Sophia was there with her mother, an elderly Italian woman she would hardly have recognised from the month previously, and bringing up the rear were Sally and Kerry. 

“My God! Kerry is obviously pregnant!” laughed Andy. “So another surprise baby is on the way!” For Margot, their elder sister had just told them little Rose-Marie would have a sibling before her second birthday.

She kept her vigil at the window, and was finally rewarded by seeing the love of her life turn up, along with the twins, already in their outfits and looking gorgeous, Geoff, Cindy, little Spencer, Della and Cara. Miranda was wearing shades, and her blue dress looked exquisite under a cream silk jacket. 

“Miranda’s here. So I’d better go down and find our seats with her.”

She hugged and kissed Hannah warmly. “You look lovely, darling.”

“She certainly does,” agreed Jenny. “We’ll see you downstairs shortly.”

Andy shimmered down the stairs in her rather high heels and caught up with her fiancée as she was hovering at the entrance to the marquee. “Got you!” she whispered, as she grabbed Miranda by the waist and kissed the back of her neck. “I was beginning to worry you weren’t coming!”

Miranda gave a little laugh. “Oh you know me. I kept everyone waiting, deciding which lipstick to put on. And we had trouble getting through the traffic. I think the paparazzi are definitely here somewhere.”

“Hence the shades?”

“Yes, of course. Just for now.”

Miranda hoped that by the time this first wedding was over, the signs of her silly crying spell might have disappeared, Geoff watched them meet up, and breathed a sigh of relief. His work was over. Now they were together, Miranda wouldn’t fall at the last hurdle as she so very nearly had done on the beach. Ex-husbands have their uses, after all. 

\----------------------------------------

Harry and Hannah’s wedding was as lovely, as poised and as eclectic as they were. The three Japanese friends formed a beautiful if tottering group of attendants, and Richard did his short duty of presenting the bride to the bridegroom with only one or two tears trickling down his cheek. The celebrant was calm, efficient and pleasant, and all went off beautifully. 

Everyone present at the Inn had crowded round to see them marry, Japanese, Ohioans, New Yorkers, and the seemingly numberless Bostonian McCarthys, they all enjoyed the short ceremony. There was a reading from an ancient Japanese philosopher, and then Harry turned to Hannah and told her and the assembled company he had written a little Haiku to mark the occasion he had proposed to her in one of Tokyo’s many parks.

“Lights through the cherries  
Touch your sweet face. My soul leaps  
To catch it, blossom’d hope.”

Everybody smiled in appreciation, and clapped as the happy couple walked out together. 

“What’s a haiku?” whispered Caroline to Andy who was sitting between the twins and their Mom.

“It’s a little poem with seventeen syllables.”

“What’s a syllable?”

“Sshh. I’ll explain later.”

Then, one of the Boston fiddlers started to play a haunting, lilting Irish love song, and Miranda saw Charles join him at the back, improvising against the tune on his cello. They played together instinctively well, and it was lovely, a beautiful setting of “She walked through the fair.” It was perfect music as the company dispersed across the gardens, to be offered champagne, and the first round of what would be many elegant little snacks.

Through her sister’s wedding, Andy had unashamedly shed a tear or two, but she was also conscious of Miranda beside her, obviously holding something in. Her goddess was unnaturally quiet. As soon as they were outside, she tugged her over to a quiet spot in the garden and deftly lifted her sunglasses so she could see her eyes. 

“Why have you been crying my darling? What’s the matter? You should have called me if you were sad.”

Miranda’s eyes were still too bright, but she smiled as she let Andy hug her, and just said. “You know how stupid I can get. I just had a wobble, that’s all. Geoff sorted me out. Don’t worry.”

“I do worry. Of course I do. Are we still getting married today though, that’s the million dollar question?”

“Of course we are! Now go off and join the family for photos.”

“Only if you will as well. Come on! Honestly I can’t risk leaving you alone for ten minutes!”

And she pulled Miranda back to the main group. There did seem to be quite a lot of photographers about. Nigel’s pal Gabriel was the main official one, but she knew many guests would also be flashing and pointing. A sea of IPhones went up as they gathered on the steps for a photo call. 

\------------------------------

If Harry and Hannah’s wedding was all calmness and peace, Emily and Serena’s couldn’t be more different, as it turned out. First of all, the Brazilians were still out in force, so the front row was taken up with at least eight young teenagers and children. 

Because this wasn’t in a Church, they couldn’t get into their heads that they should be, if not silent, at least courteously quiet during the ceremony. There seemed to be a shortage of adult males around, but a whole collection of very elegant ladies were there in very tight dresses, very high heels and very flashy jewellery.

Emily came in, looking like a demure British rose, on the arm of her father. Andrea followed her, similarly elegantly dressed, and took her nosegay of flowers for her. Then Serena came forward from the other corner, accompanied by the towering figure of her father, who looked decidedly tense. She was a tall girl, but he was a good four or five inches taller, very handsome in a heavy, dangerous sort of way, and behind her, she had her own small train of little sisters, who were fighting with each other even as they walked down the aisle between the rows of chairs, throwing rose petals everywhere.

Their vows were based on the classic old British Wedding ceremony. “I promise . . . . to have and to hold from this day forward; for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part and thereby I plight thee my troth.”

Miranda and Andy exchanged smiles. “Isn’t that lovely?” whispered Andy. “Who would have thought it of old foul-mouthed Emily?” 

“I think her Dad encouraged her. Look how proud he seems of her now!”

The two girls held hands, exchanged rings, and then the Celebrant announced, “I now pronounce you wife and wife.” The whole assembly erupted with a whoop of joy and broke into applause, as they exchanged a deep and rather wanton kiss. And to think Emily hadn’t even admitted she was gay this time last year! 

Then it was the Samba band who started playing to wish them on their way, but just as people were rising from their seats, the noise of a helicopter came whirring overhead. It sounded closer and closer until the noise was deafening and the wedding band was drowned out. 

“Those damn network TV channels!” swore Miranda. “I knew they’d find out where we were somehow.” 

By now, the marquee guy ropes were straining on their pegs, and the updraft from the helicopter blew all the service sheets everywhere. Everyone ran out of the tent, half afraid it would collapse but also curious to see what was happening.

But it wasn’t the media to blame. The helicopter didn’t have a cable TV company logo on it at all. It circled low overhead and then moved back slightly. 

Serena was astonished to find her august father, one of the richest men in Brazil, so he was always telling her, kiss her very hurriedly on the cheek and say in Portuguese, “Congratulations, darling. Send me the bill for whatever needs paying. Sorry, but I have to go now. I can’t stay for the party.” And he ran for the helicopter, which had landed just behind the Inn, on a wet stretch of sandy beach.

Before their shocked eyes, especially of his wife and children, the helicopter, with him and his bodyguard clambering hastily aboard, spun up into the air, and before they knew it, all the company saw it disappear over the horizon. 

It was at that point that a swat team appeared with sirens blazing in a posse of police cars. They tried shouting, but couldn’t easily make their way past all the elderly ladies with canes, small children, Irish accordion players, campy fashion queens and someone dressed as a Ringmaster. 

“Excuse me?” said Miranda, in her best Ice-queen voice, as they emerged through the crowds. “What are you all doing here?”

“Sorry Ma’am. We’re chasing a dangerous criminal. We’ve just managed to get an arrest warrant signed,” said one of the senior cops. “Does anyone here know of a Signor Rodrigo Ferreira- Olivares?” 

Cassie, who couldn’t resist, came forward boldly and said, “Oh if it was that tall fat man, he’s just left. He went off in a helicopter saying he couldn’t stay for the party. Would you like to stay though? Our Mom is getting married to Andy, and it’s going to be something worth watching, a really gay wedding!”

Miranda was horrified to find her little girl chatting away out there in front of all the men in body armour and holding semi-automatic rifles. She tried to pull her back behind her.

Sally, looking like a good-looking man, in a tuxedo and boots, thought she ought to offer some assistance. “Sorry guys, the kid is right. I think your bird has flown. I’m with the NYPD. If I’d known who he was, I could have arrested him for you, but he was the father of the bride, so it might have spoiled her day.”

“Goddam it,” cursed the detective, gesturing to his men to put down their weapons. “Come on, let’s leave. There are too many kids here for comfort. Sorry to have troubled you Ma’am.” He tipped his forehead to Miranda, and the police officers all awkwardly turned around and gradually disappeared. 

“Wasn’t that exciting?!” demanded Cassie, her eyes shining.  
“No it wasn’t, not at all,” replied Miranda firmly. 

She could see Serena with her arms around her step-mother, trying to comfort her as she rightly had a little scream of fury at her husband suddenly abandoning her. Emily and her father stood by and commiserated. 

Well, at least two of the couples were married, and that was something. Miranda realised her own desire for her wedding to be the main event of the day now looked pretty silly. If the evening news was going to highlight any story, it wasn’t going to be them at all. But the drama had completely cured her own stage-fright. She realised she was happy, and was going to enjoy the next few hours.

The music was starting up again, this time in full force. Food was circulating, and she could see Mel going round replacing tablecloths and wiping off all the sand which had blown up across her lovely gardens from the beach. 

Nigel came over to her through the throng of people. He said, “Well! You couldn’t write that into a film. No-one would believe you!”

“I know. But I’m learning now, to just go with the flow, however crazy it is. But can you come and help me change, and make sure Andy is OK, as well? We can comfort the left-over Brazilians later. In an hour we’ll be on stage as well, and Nigel, I also need your help with something else,”

“What?”

“I’ve organised a little surprise for Andy, for after the ceremony, something she’s always talking about, and you are suitably dressed for the part!”

They walked into the house together, and Andy, who was indeed preparing to go up to her room with her mother, to change into her own wedding dress, heard Nigel suddenly roar with laughter. 

Now what could that be all about?

“Do you need our help, Andy? We are your bridesmaids!”

Caroline and Cassie were hanging round her, so she smiled and said, 

“Yes, of course I do. Let’s go and find my frock. I can’t get married without you!” and ushered them into the building. 

Mel met Frieda in the kitchen. 

“How’s it going in here?”

“Fine dear, fine. What was that noise just now?”

“Oh nothing, sweetheart. A gangster rushed out of the wedding to make a getaway in a helicopter, and a swot team from the Boston police department tried to make an arrest, that’s all.”

Frieda smiled at her partner affectionately. And Mel told her she was becoming prone to making up fanciful stories! 

“When is Andrea marrying the amazing Miranda? I’m taking off my chef’s whites to come and watch that, you can be sure.”

And they laughed together. It was turning out a really joyous day.


	16. The happy couple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Elephant in the garden, if not in the room

Around 1pm Agatha Burrows was taking a short break, sitting in Mel and Frieda’s back living room behind the swinging green baize door, and enjoying a quiet cup of green tea. This was the very first time in her career as a marriage celebrant that she had presided at three ceremonies on the same day, and also the first time two female gay couples were marrying within hours of each other. Since Massachusetts had legalised same-sex marriage, such bookings were beginning to become more common though, so she expected this wouldn’t be the last time.

She couldn’t pretend the day wasn’t exciting, but it was also definitely stressful. She knew many of the wedding guests were New York celebrities and word would quickly get around if she messed it up. Miranda Priestly and her charming young fiancée had met with her the previous Thursday, and she understood how they wanted the ceremony to go, but it was still slightly nerve-wracking, and those nerves had certainly been well and truly wracked by the bizarre and almost violent end to the previous wedding. Thank God no-one had been shot! The little kid in the fancy cowboy jacket seemed to have stepped out and stopped the police shooting anyone. She certainly had guts, that girl. 

Mel popped her head round the door and asked if she was OK, and whether she’d like a plate of food from the lunch buffet, but Agatha said, no, she’d rather wait till all her duties had been performed. Then she could relax with the rest. Miranda had given her an invitation to stay for as long as she liked and eat and drink all she wanted to, and had politely declined the offer of a homily. She could see that the Runway editor wasn’t someone who would appreciate sermonising from a stranger.

Upstairs, Caroline and Cassidy were trying their hardest to be good bridesmaids and help Andrea into her lovely frothy, gorgeous dress. Granny Jen and Aunty Margot were doing the lion’s share of the work though, passing her what she needed. Then Caroline asked, “Can I brush your hair, Andy?” and when Andy, who was sitting at the dressing-table, smiled and agreed, she carefully untangled the chestnut curls in front of her and brushed them out, then combed them down into a semblance of order. 

“You take after your Mom, being so good with hair”, said Andy, smiling at her in the mirror. “The first time we really got together, she spent half an hour taming and dressing my hair. Of course it went right down my back then, not just this little mop.”

“It will grow again before you know it,” said Jenny. “Are you going to grow it really long again?”

“Yes, I will. Miranda has a thing about long hair, well on me anyway.”

There was a knock on the door, and Margot went to answer it. “Nigel’s here,” she said. “Can he come in?”

“Of course!”

Nigel came through, holding a little jewellery box. 

“Here, Six, this is for you to wear, courtesy of one of those designers whose name you couldn’t even spell once upon a time. It’s only a loan, mind, which I will have to return next week, but I thought you might like some sparkle.”

He opened the box and pulled out a little diamond tiara with matching ear-rings. 

“Oh, how cool,” crooned Caroline. “Andy, you’ll look like a princess!”

“Put them on!” shouted Cassie. “Mom will be well impressed!”

So Andrea placed the headpiece securely in her waves and hung the ear-rings on each side of it. It was actually quite helpful as the tiara kept her hair out of her eyes. She had made up her face, following Caroline’s stern advice, and the dress certainly felt as lovely as it had when she’d tried it on before.

“Stand up, and let’s have a look at you,” instructed Nigel, and so she did. She was astonished to see her mother’s eyes fill with tears. “I told you, you would make your mother cry!” he continued. “You do look very beautiful. Just remember to stand up straight, sweetie.”

“I’m changing my shoes though,” she said. “These ones are too high, and I am not towering over Miranda.”

Nigel, who had just come from Miranda’s dressing room, gave a little sly grin. He’d ensured that her four inch heels would match Andy in height underneath a very fetching pair of dark striped dress trousers. But Miranda wore heels like a pro whereas Six would just as likely topple over at the first opportunity. 

“OK, as long as they match”, and when he saw Andy’s low-heeled choice, nodded approval. 

Nigel had organised not one but two trusted professional fashion photographers to cover this wedding, and now felt sure his investment would pay hefty dividends. The next cover of Runway would be a record breaker. 

He had just spent thirty minutes with Miranda, and knew their gamble had completely worked. She looked magnificent, gorgeous and utterly sexy in her tailcoat and flashing platinum cufflinks and cravat chain. The outfit had been perfectly cut to fit her female shape, but by covering much of it up, the beauty of her body was paradoxically highlighted, and her make-up made her eyes looked enormous and stunningly dark-blue. Now she was sitting in her room, for the last few minutes before the wedding, and he’d seen Andy’s grandmother about to go in to wish her well. 

The ensuing little conversation with Momma was just what Miranda needed to stop the butterflies in her stomach. To start with, Momma was outrageously impressed with her outfit. 

“Jeese, girl. Well! Darn me. I can tell you if I was fifty years younger, Andy wouldn’t stand a chance! I’d swing you up behind me on my horse and gallop off with you as far as the Mexican border!”

Miranda laughed. “That’s a ridiculous notion for so many reasons, I can’t begin to give them. But do you think it’s OK, really, and not too shocking for Richard?”

“Pooh, Richard! He has the imagination of a ground-hog and the common sense of a jack-rabbit. But he has grown up a lot in the thirty or so years I’ve been training him. His mind has broadened a lot, and I’ve heard him often talk to Jenny about how much he admires you.”

“I just want Andy’s whole family to accept me. I know I’m not easy.”

“Darlin’ we all love you. Look how wonderfully you brought us altogether at Thanksgiving? Andy adores you, I obviously lust after you, even in my old bones, but the whole family loves you. You’re one of us now, along with cheeky young Harry. You know, he asked me earlier if I was getting off with anyone at this wedding!”

“It’s a shame we don’t have anyone who jumps to mind for you.”

“Oh, I’m only having a joke here. Gloria and Lee are taking me up north back to Maine tomorrow for the rest of the month, that’s exciting enough. Your brother and his partner make a nice couple though, don’t they?”

Miranda almost jumped out of the chair where she was sitting. “Charles and George? Oh no, they are not a couple, just a music partnership.”

“Now, darling, where’s your gaydar? Haven’t you noticed? They never go anywhere without each other. They’re like an old married couple.”

“But I put them in separate bedrooms and they didn’t say anything.”

“Your brother is a very refined gentleman. I don’t suppose he would, but after a few drinks at the reception later, you ask him. I’ll bet you a nickel and a dime I’m right!”

“Well,” thought Miranda. “I must have been blind. Momma’s right. Charles isn’t the sort to proclaim it to the world. How dense I’ve been all this time.”

Then Nigel bounced back in. “Come on ladies, let’s get moving. I have Cassie here with me. It’s time to go down. This show is about to begin.”

And he bustled them both out of the room and downstairs, like the perfect best man that he was. 

Douglas and Harry, along with Andy’s two brothers, Edward and Mike, had been acting as ushers, handing out order sheets to the guests as the big marquee began to fill up. It was going to be absolutely packed. All the catering staff, as well as Mel and Frieda themselves, and the various musicians had squeezed in to stand at the back, and a taxi had just drawn up with a few late-comers who now came flying down the drive to join the assembly. 

The Brazilians had overcome their earlier shock and were now more than happy to join the throng, and all of Miranda’s dearest friends and family were piling into the front seats. Serena and Emily, who now considered themselves an established couple, were directing traffic into each row, and gasped with appreciation as Jenny Sachs, the bride’s elegant mother passed them. As always, she looked a million dollars, on a modest budget, and her mother beside her also looked very elegant, especially for a retired farmer from Ohio.

Then Miranda stepped into the marquee, and a whisper of shocked appreciation at her amazing appearance rippled through the whole assembly. She and Andy had earlier decided to share the twins between them, so Cassidy had come down and now accompanied her mother and Nigel into the front seats on the left. 

The McCarthy fiddle and accordion band, who had been playing to entertain everyone for the last fifteen minutes, now fell silent, and then changed their tune completely to a rendering of Handel’s ‘Arrival of the Queen of Sheba’ It was astounding, the sounds they could produce from just violins and accordions as their fingers flew over the buttons in perfect time and harmonic accuracy.

Everyone went quiet and turned to the back, where the bridal party were coming through the opening. Miranda stood up. God, she felt nervous, as if this was the first time she was getting married. But before, she’d been the one to walk up the aisle, knowing both times that her heart really wasn’t in it, and she might as well have been walking to her doom. Now, she wanted to marry Andrea Sachs more than anything else in the whole world. And she had to wait for her. 

“Got the rings?” she hissed at Nigel.

“Of course, now shut up and turn round. Look at your bride!” he hissed back. 

They both turned, and saw Richard Sachs leading his daughter down the centre aisle. Andrea, whose nerves had melted away under the complete conviction that this was what she wanted, and her desire was only to reach Miranda and take her hand, came steadily forward.

She looked absolutely beautiful, and had, as Nigel had predicted, already made her father weep when he saw her. Caroline walked just behind, her dress of blue and silver silk a picture in itself, and she held her head high, like the little princess she was. 

Miranda’s heart stopped, just gazing at Andrea, and tears also came to her eyes. Then Andrea focused her vision on Miranda, and her eyes went wide with delight, and a huge sexy smile appeared on her face as she saw Miranda’s clothes. She came to be with her, and Richard passed his daughter over to the stylish woman, astonishingly dressed in full formal men’s dress, but very cleverly feminised. The look on both their faces convinced him this would be a good, strong, permanent marriage. He gave them a smile, and returned to the comforting presence of his wife.

Agatha Burrows, in her formal lawyer’s gown, stepped forward. 

“Friends and family, Miranda and Andrea welcome you to their wedding today and before you all will now declare their love for each other, and their wish to be married in the sight of the law, and in the presence of this congregation. . .” Miranda’s wedding had begun. 

Everyone waited for the vows, for the whisper had gone round that they had written each other’s. 

Miranda went first.  
Taking Andrea’s hands in hers she said,  
“Andrea, I promise to hold you always in my heart, to share my life, and my children, my home and my dreams, so that we will make our future together, and be as one.  
I promise I will be there for you in sunshine and in storms. I will never desert you for any other. I will forgive you in return, if you will forgive me for anything I do to hurt you without realising.  
You are my soul-mate, my treasure, and the one who will always love me.  
I know that, and I promise never to forget it.” 

Then Andrea replied, repeating the vows, Miranda had insisted she learn.  
“Miranda, I promise to stay beside you forever,  
To forgive you for all the times you will definitely need it,  
To protect and save you from all your silliness and arrogance,  
To obey you when you make sensible decisions, and always disobey you when you don’t.  
I promise to be your wife, with all that this means.  
And to give you all my love, now and forever.”

Then, after a little more from Agatha, , the exchanging of rings, and a reading of the Philip Sydney Poem, “My true love hath my heart and I have his.” came the ringing confirmation everyone was waiting for. “I now pronounce you to be formally married in the sight of the law, and in the company of this congregation. You may now kiss the bride.”

Oh whoops, Agatha realised she had fallen into the trap of repeating the old heterosexual rubric, not what she was supposed to do for same-sex marriages, but no-one cared or noticed. The whole assembly craned their heads forward to see and share the magic moment as Miranda Priestly threw all caution to the winds and swept her bride up in a completely all-embracing kiss on the mouth. Andrea twisted her fingers through Miranda’s white hair and met her, mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue.

Some wag in the congregation began to count, and many others all joined in. “One, two, three, four, five . . . . !” 

It became a chant, until Miranda reluctantly drew back for breath on the count of eleven. The crowd loved it, and all broke into applause. Cassie and Caroline snuggled into their two moms for a group hug, and the music struck up again, this time to the very jaunty tune Andy had been singing all spring, “Oh, we’re going to the chapel and we’re going to get married! . . . 

“Let’s go out and have some fun and food. I’m starving!” whispered Andrea, and they walked out together arm in arm as everyone cheered and clapped. 

The inevitable photo shoot took up much of the next hour or more, until Andrea decided she never wanted to smile at a camera again. But then she caught sight of a face she certainly hadn’t expected to be within ten thousand miles of her wedding.

“Lily! You made it! How wonderful. I can’t believe it. When did you get here?” They ran towards each other, and Lily gave her a big hug. 

“I know. I’m so sorry I was late. It’s been a bit of a marathon, but I arrived just before your wedding began. I’ve been travelling non-stop for the last thirty-six hours. But you are my best friend in the world, and some things are non- negotiable. You look amazing by the way, and wow, is Miranda hot or what?”

“Definitely hot!” laughed Andy. “I had no idea she was going to wear that. She is a tease.”

“Well I wish you both every blessing. And hey, I’ve got a new fellow in my life. Someone I’ve met in New Zealand. He’s a great guy, and I think I’m staying out there long-term to be with him.”

“Great news, but your Mom will miss you.”

“I know, but I’m taking her back with me, to see if she likes the place. She has good office skills. I’m sure she can settle therewith us if she wants to.”

“Well, I wish you every joy. Now grab some food and enjoy the party. Afternoon tea will be served very shortly, and then we have the chance to dance all evening, with a pig roast on the BBQ.”

Miranda came over to claim her bride, and even gave Lily a kindly smile. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could now annoy her, or even dent the grin on her face. She had enjoyed surprising Andy with her outfit, and now she had another little trick up her sleeve. It had taken quite a lot of planning, but she had cleared it with Mel and Frieda, who had opened their second gate into a side track to make it all possible. Kick off time for this surprise was 5pm.

By now, afternoon tea in the British tradition was being served with little porcelain cups and saucers, fancy cakes and pastries on tiered cake-stands, cucumber sandwiches, Devonshire scones with strawberry jam and cream, and tiny meringues stuffed with cream. Frieda had done a wonderful job, even though some of Brazilian teenagers hadn’t recognised the cucumber sandwiches as food. As Andy had predicted, the more boisterous of them had decamped down to the beach to play volley ball. 

Miranda’s jazz band, who had been waiting patiently in the wings, could now be heard playing sets of her favorite standards, while Charles had taken the twins inside to practise their waltz. George had set up his portable electric piano, which had a surprisingly good way of mimicking a traditional keyboard, and they were happily all working together. 

The sun was shining, the little on-shore breeze did no more than lightly clear the air, and everyone seemed ridiculously happy. Miranda and Andrea walked together round the company, working the tables and stopping to chat with all their guests. Charles had already introduced Miranda to her cousin Evelyn, and she now took Andrea over to the Bostonian section of the garden party, to meet some of the others. Charles had summed them up perfectly, they were all very pleasant looking, jolly types, easily identified as relations of the twins, even more than hers. Gay or straight, they all embraced her as one of their own, and she discovered that three of them worked together in a successful family business, quite separate from their music making. “What is it”, asked Andrea, showing polite curiosity. 

“Teeth. We’re big in teeth,” declared one of the brothers, flashing a large set of perfect porcelain dentures. 

Both Miranda and Andrea had to choke back a giggle. “Big in teeth?” confirmed Andy.

“Yep. We run one of the biggest dental technician centres in the Boston area. If you were up here and you needed a crown or some implants, chances are, your dentist would send the work to us.”

“Well I never!” said Miranda. “That’s very skilled work, I’m sure.”

“Yes it is, but it can get tedious after a while. How are your teeth, Miranda?”

“Pretty good, thank you. I was never given many sweets as a child.”

“They sure look in good condition! Now if you’ll excuse me, I need this tea cup refilling. Kind of titchy, aren’t they?”

And he rolled away, leaving Andrea and Miranda stifling their need to have a good laugh. Being “big in teeth” was to become a catchphrase in the family ever after. 

But Miranda was really very pleased to meet all her cousins, and felt at ease with them. They shared the McCarthy musical talent which had emerged in her twins as well as in Charles, and when they reconvened for another 30 minutes set of music, to give the Jazz band a break, she enjoyed all their old Irish folk tunes. 

Then it was time to set up her surprise. She went inside the house to make a call, and on the dot of 5pm, a big vehicle with a smaller trailer could be seen coming down the access road and turning behind the garden into the back lane. Nigel picked up his cue, and Miranda came out to say to Andy. “Go get the twins, darling. I have a little surprise for them and the other children, and for you.”

Andy obeyed, at a complete loss as to what to expect, but then when she had gathered the children altogether, the side gate opened Nigel came through twirling his ringmaster’s baton and picked up the microphone on the platform. 

“Quiet everybody please! We will shortly be cutting the wedding cake for all our lovely couples here today. It is Hawaiian fruit cake on the bottom tier, for our Asian and Australian connections of Harry and Hannah, then lemon drizzle cake in the middle layer for Emily and Serena, that lovely mixture of sweet and sharpness we associate with them, and finally for the top layer, chocolate heaven for our darling Miranda and Andrea. And we thank Mel and Frieda and their team for providing us with such a lovely venue and feast for our weddings today. I’m sure you all agree it’s been a triumph.”

Everyone clapped and cheered, and then he handed over the microphone to Miranda. As the whole party fell silent again, she spoke to the crowd. 

“My dear friends and family, most of you know me, and you’ve seen me at my best, and my worst, over the years, but I can guarantee you have never seen me as happy as I am today. Now, as a little special entertainment for all our children here, and for my definitely young-at-heart wife, I have asked to have brought a surprise visitor to grace our celebrations. 

“When I was sixteen I ran away to join a circus, yes, you may well gasp with surprise, but it’s true, and ever since then I’ve felt an affinity to one particular animal, for whom on one occasion I even had to sew pyjamas! 

“I am talking about elephants, not the elephant sitting in the room for most of my life, that I was gay, but real elephants. I know Andy is fascinated by them too, so I am very pleased to introduce you all to Laura, a baby elephant from Providence zoo, who has come to visit us just for an hour, accompanied by her keepers Joe and Ted!”

And through the garden gate came the men she mentioned, escorting a little grey elephant who blinked at the crowds but otherwise seemed completely unfazed at its sudden celebrity. It was led into a space of its own in the side garden, and the children all gathered round to gaze on it, and pat it, while it tucked into a large bag of hay and enjoyed having its ears tickled. 

“Miranda, you’re amazing!” Andrea kissed her on the ear, and made a quick decision. “Look, I’m going upstairs to change out of this lovely Valentino dress so I can cuddle the baby. You remembered how I wanted an elephant at the Christmas party, like the twins had at theirs in central Park last summer! But this is a complete surprise.”

“I know, just a bit of fun. I did worry it would get stressed, but it hasn’t come far, and they tell me it’s used to being petted. It will only stay an hour.”

Andrea changed back into her first dress of the day, still an extremely pretty one which Miranda had gifted her, and then they all had a lovely time meeting and greeting little Laura, the elephant. At six o’clock she returned to the zoo to re-join her mother and aunties, and then Charles and the twins performed their special waltz. Miranda stepped out onto the dance-floor, taking Andrea’s hand and sweeping her in for a really romantic smoochy dance. Then Harry and Hannah joined them, followed by Serena and the bashful Emily. After a few circuits others came on as well, and before long thirty or more couples were enjoying the first dance of the evening. As they danced, Andy whispered in Miranda’s ear, “Look, Cindy’s mom Della, seems to have hit it off with your cousin, the guy who is big in teeth.” And sure enough, they were passed by the couple gazing into each other’s eyes, and appearing as happy as anything. They could obviously both dance well in step together.

“When are we slipping away?” murmured Miranda after another hour or so. She was getting hungry, not for roast pork, but for Andrea, whose very presence was driving her wild.

“As soon as you like. No-one will really mind, will they?”

“Go get your things then, and I’ll have a word with the twins, Cara and Geoff, to tell them.” 

They tried to slip away unnoticed by most, but of course, that wasn’t going to happen, and Andy, driving the Porsche, could hardly push through the crowds throwing confetti and flower petals at them as they made their escape. 

Miranda was still in her wedding suit, but had taken off the jacket and thrown it over the back seat. Her waistcoat and silk cravat gave her a glorious steam-punk look, and Andrea felt a hot course of desire rise up her body as she looked sideways at her. 

“How long to our secret destination?” breathed Miranda after twenty minutes, her hand resting across Andrea’s shoulder, tickling her neck.

“About two hours.”

“Oh hell, I can’t wait that long. Turn off here, and let me smother you with kisses.”

So Andy did as requested, turning quickly into a quiet lay-by, pressing the button to raise the roof on the Porsche, and offering her throat to her wife’s hot and hungry mouth. She’d promised to obey Miranda when she made sensible decisions after all, even though ‘smothering with kisses’ turned out to be somewhat of a euphemism!

Epilogue. 

The following morning, Mel and Frieda were astonished to find a succession of wedding guests asking to see them, before they all reluctantly checked out. 

The first were an older couple, one woman obviously in her eighties, who said they wanted to book the Inn for their wedding, long overdue, they called it, sometime in August. That was great news, and would improve the Inn’s cash flow no end. 

Then the hilariously campy Master of Ceremonies came forward as well, saying he had just proposed to his young companion, and how about fixing a wedding for early September, when he’d be free of being a stand-in Editor, but before the Paris Fashion week. Mel realised their Inn was going to get quite a name among the fashionistas all over the USA, and their money troubles might be over. 

The next couple were the New York police officer and her girl-friend, who said they wanted a wedding before their baby was born in October. This would be a very “Village People” affair and kick any remaining NYPD homophobia well into touch. 

Emily’s father and Kerry’s mother also became engaged at the wedding, but they had left early to make a discreet getaway for the airport. “We’re settling in England,” confided Marcy to her daughter. "Don’t let on to Sally, but Trevor has a little issue with his passport. Be sure and come visit us over in Bournemouth very soon.” 

Cindy’s mother Della and Charlie McCarthy, the demon fiddle player from North Boston, then took a set of brochures and asked whether they’d still be open for weddings in November. It was all very new, said Della, but they’d really had a great time, and Charlie had a huge advantage over her first husband. He knew nothing about, and had no interest at all, in the law.

“Was it something we put in the tea?” asked Frieda, when things quietened down. Mel shook her head. “No! It was just the magic blown in with this wonderful wedding weekend we’ve just had. I’ve never experienced such pure, ridiculous happiness as we’ve seen here. We can thank our lucky stars we were asked to host Miranda’s wedding!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note.  
> If you enjoyed this story, then the final instalment of the series is waiting for you in "Their Honeymoon".  
> You can also find other writing, a new novel in fact, by me under www.MaggieMcIntyreAuthor.com or on my Facebook page with the same name.


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